


Have Your Steak (And Eat It Too)

by XiuChen4Ever



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: All UnnieUnnie's Fault, Biting, But There Are Comeuppances, Cat/Human Hybrids, Catboys & Catgirls, Consensual Sexual Hunting, Discrimination, Found Family, Hybrid Rescue, Hybrids, Legal issues, M/M, Mating, Mentions of Forced Breeding, Mentions of past sexual abuse of a child, Mild Consensual Noncon, Outdoor Sex, Plot is Mostly Fluff and Legal Proceedings, Racism, Safeword Use, Safewords, Somehow My KinkPorn Became A Treatise On Personhood, literally found family, primal play, pwp that grew plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:48:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 82,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22122100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XiuChen4Ever/pseuds/XiuChen4Ever
Summary: Jongdae believes all hybrids deserve the same rights as humans, and he’s dedicated his career as a lawyer to achieving that ideal.  Minseok wants his family to be safe and loved, but he also wants this handsome human to moan beneath his claws and between his teeth.
Relationships: Kim Jongdae | Chen/Kim Minseok | Xiumin, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 417
Kudos: 524





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unnieunnie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unnieunnie/gifts).



> One day we’re just chilling in the FilthTriad group chat, ogling pics of Jongdae in shiny pants and huffing about Minseok’s eyebrows still being absolutely perfect after months in the military, you know, like we do. 
> 
> Out of the blue, UnnieUnnie goes, “Hey, Anna, would you write me Min as like a lynx or a snow leopard hybrid, getting all bitey with Dae?” 
> 
> And I said, “Sure, sounds fun, would you like some plot with your porn?” 
> 
> And, quite foolishly, UnnieUnnie answered, “Whatever you want, surprise me.”
> 
> She waited four whole months for this, and unlike my usual habit, I didn’t let her or our Bee read more than the occasional snippet until it was all done.
> 
> While I didn’t read a whole-ass book on hawking to write this fic, I did have many Wikipedia tabs open in a sincere effort to make all the legal and biological aspects of the story ring true. That said, please forgive any inaccuracies, or better yet just pretend that’s how things work in my imaginary world where hybrids are A Thing.
> 
> And for those of you who are concerned about reading an unfinished fic, please know that **this fic is entirely written already,** it's 82k words long, and I will be doling it out in weekly 7k-ish chunks for 11 chapters because I am cruel and like to prolong your suffering.
> 
> This might just be my favorite of all the fic I’ve written, and I hope all of you enjoy it just as much.

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

It’s a difficult thing to walk calmly through an empty park in the dead of night. Jongdae can manage it now after doing it at least once a month for the better part of a year, but it’s definitely an experience made easier by practice. Tonight he strolls along easily in the center of the wide path, arms swinging casually at his sides, face tilted toward the stars.

There’s a rustle in the bushes. 

Jongdae presses his lips together firmly to choke back a squeal, having learned the hard way not to bite his lip to keep the semi-hysterical sound inside. The noise behind him is a deliberate reminder that he’s being stalked—the beast hunting him never makes a sound unless he means to.

This sound is meant to alarm Jongdae. To trigger him to flee. So flee he does, sprinting up the path even though he can’t possibly escape the silent predator herding him through the park.

Good thing Jongdae doesn’t actually want to.

He still screams when a body suddenly impacts his, bearing him to the ground with a blood-chilling snarl. It’s futile but he writhes beneath the weight on top of him, tries to squirm away from the claws pinning him to the grass beside the path. Despite Jongdae’s twisting and yelping he’s soon belly-down against the dirt, still writhing against the four sets of claws digging into calf and ankle, biceps and shoulder.

He goes entirely limp when he feels hot breath on the nape of his neck an instant before jaws close around his spine.

The growling melts into a purr, teeth and claws pressing harder against his skin as growing male arousal is rolled against Jongdae’s ass.

Jongdae moans, lifting his hips off the grass to press his ass back up into the body on top of his, to feel his predator’s eager length twitch and harden through the fabric of his joggers.

The action tears a fresh snarl from the beast on his back. “Mine,” the creature growls. “Gonna eat you.”

“Help,”Jongdae mewls. “It’s got me!”

“Got you,” the predator agrees, rolling off of him only to grab an arm and a leg and haul a still-squirming Jongdae over the grass.

“Help!” Jongdae yips. “It’s gonna eat me!”

“You’re yummy,” his captor purrs, depositing Jongdae into a thicket of fragrant pine bushes. 

He lands on a pile of blankets and sleeping mats but immediately rolls to get away, whining when he’s quickly caught and pinned. Claws dent the exposed skin of Jongdae’s shoulders as he’s held down and regarded like he’s a full course meal.

The predator’s eyes catch the moonlight enough to reflect blue-green, practically glowing in the dark, and a feral smile is dominated by wicked-looking fangs.

“Steak?” the creature asks. Huge pointed ears with long tufts at the tip are focused down at Jongdae and he can feel the brush of a plush tail against his bare shins.

“Steak,” Jongdae agrees, smiling back up at the love of his life.

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

If someone had told Jongdae two years ago that he’d be letting a snowlynx hybrid tackle and maul and fuck him in a semi-private park late at night—not just _letting,_ but actually really enjoying it—he’d have given them a seriously confused look. 

First, he’d have wondered what the fuck a ‘snowlynx’ was. Then he’d be alarmed at the concept of getting naked outdoors. And then his brain would’ve meandered back around to the ‘mauling’ part of the equation and noped right the fuck out.

So it’s probably just as well that the Jongdae of two years ago is blissfully unaware of his fate. He thinks his future is pretty set as a Special Prosecutor for Seoul’s High Court, advocating for hybrid rights and ensuring those who violate those rights end up in jail. 

Born well after the creation of the first hybrids by Japanese scientists in the 1970s, he’s always believed it to be bullshit that people are treated like animals merely because they happen to have ears on the tops of their heads rather than the sides. Sure, they have animal instincts, but they also have human-equivalent intellect. Just because they’re trafficked under the latin name of _Homo exotica_ instead of _sapiens_ doesn’t mean they’re not sentient.

Jongdae can rant all day about hybrids and hybrid rights in four languages. Which is probably why his old university pal thinks of him on a gray fall day, changing the course of Jongdae’s steady, workaholic life. 

The phone rings in Jongdae’s office and he reaches to answer it, fumbling with the landline before he pulls his head far enough out of the brief he’s reading to realize it’s his cell phone. “Junmyeon Hyung” is displayed as the caller ID and Jongdae lifts his brows at the name. He’d fallen out of touch with his old university pal but it had been busyness rather than disinterest that had led to them growing apart. 

Junmyeon had moved to America along with his actor husband, moving up through the federal prosecution ranks there just as Jongdae has climbed the high court prosecution ranks in Seoul. So it’s with great interest that Jongdae swipes the green line to answer the call.

“Myeon-hyung?”

“Jongdae! _Hyung_ —haven’t heard that in a while. I think I missed it.”

“Ah, so you called up your favorite dongsaeng just to hear it again after all these years?”

Junmyeon sighs deeply enough that Jongdae suspects he could hear it across the ocean even without the aid of the phone. “Unfortunately, no. I need your help.”

“Mine specifically?”

“Unless you know any other eloquent lawyers well-versed in international hybrid law, one that can speak several Asian languages as well as English, and is licensed to practice law both in the US and in an Asian country with nationality granted by parentage rather than by place of birth, yes, yours specifically.”

“Then I’ll get on a plane. Um. This case isn’t at all pleasant, is it?”

“Nope. It’s the worst case of hybrid rights abuse the world has ever seen. I’ll send you the briefs and plane tickets. This is all on the federal dime.”

“Wow, so, bad news and big news.”

“It’s not in the news yet, thankfully. Jongdae, I really appreciate this. And so will six hundred cat hybrids, once we restore their health and get them all re-homed.” Junmyeon chuckles. “Yixing is already cleaning out our guest bedroom.”

“Of course he is,” Jongdae laughs. Junmyeon’s husband is probably the most generous guy Jongdae knows. Yixing would never sit by when he could help someone out. “I can’t wait to see both of you.”

“Travel safe, Jongdae-yah.”

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

On the plane, Jongdae learns exactly why the US government is willing to shell out the cash to fly over a foreign consultant and pay him crisis rates for the duration of his stay in a fancy-ass hotel—they are embarrassed as fuck that this occurred on their soil and want this whole thing cleared up and stamped out immediately. The Dollhouse Decocats hybrid abuse scandal will go down in history no matter what, and the feds are desperate that it do so with a footnote of how intolerant the US is to this kind of thing.

That might be a bit difficult, considering that in America, states can pass laws that countermand federal ones, and the federal laws, while still technically in place, may not be aggressively enforced. Especially in a conservative, rural state like North Dakota. Somehow, hybrids had come to be classified as livestock there, only legally entitled to the standard of living granted to a goat or a cow. 

But unlike goats or cows, hybrids don’t fall under the United States Department of Agriculture regulations which require things like periodic inspections of living quarters, adequate veterinary care, and so on. To the federal government, hybrids are suspended in limbo, somewhere between human and animal and therefore incredibly vulnerable to falling through the cracks. There are very few concrete laws on the books about them, so if a state dictates they’re only animals but they’re not listed in the federal agriculture regulations, there’s no official oversight for their wellbeing at all.

Which means that three decades ago, some heartless but enterprising individuals decided North Dakota was just the place to start up what they called a “designer hybrid cattery” but which Jongdae can only call a fucking kitten mill except for sentient beings.

The “designer” part evidently refers to the crossbreeding of various hybrid types to create “ligers” and “tipards” and any other combo Dollhouse Decocats could think of, each with its own exotic-sounding portmanteau. They were especially proud of their “snowlynx,” a cross between lynx and snow leopard hybrids that retain a lynx’s tall tufted ears and wide luminous eyes but have a snow leopard’s pale coloring and a long thick tail instead of a short stubby one. 

The combination was evidently only rarely successful and Jongdae isn’t at all surprised. Under natural circumstances—if anything about a race with scientifically-manufactured origins can be considered natural—the offspring of any two given hybrids will be visibly the same animal type as one or the other of their parents, even among those of the same species. The child of a black labrador hybrid and a white poodle hybrid might occasionally be a black poodle or a white labrador, but only rarely would it be a labradoodle hybrid. And a labrador hybrid and a cat hybrid would have no chance of producing a “catdog” hybrid child—though their puppy may have urges to climb trees or their kitten may enjoy swimming more than the average feline. 

This lack of physical-trait mixing has something to do with the fact that hybrids have triple helix DNA—an entire extra set of chromosomes determining their animal characteristics. This third set of genetic information is almost always copied entirely from one parent or the other. Only rarely is it intermixed, and only then if the parents’ animal ancestors are similar enough.

To increase this tiny chance to something like one in three, the Dollhouse Decocats scientists had been dosing some of their “breeding stock” with a proprietary fertility drug designed to make their animal DNA more easily blended. Even so, the results were often inconsistent, and their records indicate many infants were “discarded” if the combination of animal traits wasn’t deemed attractive enough. 

Since lynx are felids and snow leopards are pantherines, the combination was even less successful than those between hybrids sharing the same animal genus. There were far more failed snow leopard/lynx pregnancies than live births, most of which were wholly leopard or wholly lynx rather than the hoped-for mix. And like many interspecies crosses, the surviving snowlynx hybrids were usually (but not always) infertile, meaning none were sold until after they’d been subjected to invasive testing and repeated attempts at breeding. They didn’t have to use the expensive fertility drugs on parents whose animal DNA they wanted to reproduce as-is, plus they could offer “stud service” to other breeders who didn’t want the expense and complications of using the unregulated Dollhouse-manufactured drugs on their own “brood stock.” The frozen semen of their one fertile snowlynx male was “available to selected catteries and private breeders” for more money per ounce than gold and heroin put together.

If this forced reproduction, genetic manipulation, and “discarding” of actual people weren’t bad enough, the screenshots of the Dollhouse Decocats invitation-only website sickeningly reveal that they were “proud to have foundation stock of the finest imported mongoloid hybrids, for that ideal cat-eyed aesthetic.”

 _Fucking white people._ No wonder the US wants Asian nationals on board to make it look like they’re taking this racist shit seriously and that these assholes don’t have any sort of American support in their beliefs. The whole thing smacks uncomfortably of eugenics, and Jongdae isn’t surprised the government is happy to pay exorbitant rates to avoid comparisons with nazis.

Jongdae’s brows continue to play tag with his bangs as he scrolls through the dossier of the more than 600 hybrids “seized” from the facility, most of them females of childbearing age and their offspring. There were only two dozen or so males over the age of ten years on the premises—”specimens” considered exceptional and kept back for breeding, like their prized fertile snowlynx.

Jongdae wants to throw up. So many “ideally cat-eyed” faces gaze dully from the screen, too many fearful children, dissociated women, hateful men. And as Lead Foreign Special Prosecutor—a bullshit title that really means “look, we got a real Asian to fix it, please don’t cancel your trade agreements with us, we super promise we’re not racists” because that probably didn’t fit as well on the personnel list—Jongdae will have to interview all of them.

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

“Fifteen hundred Dollhouse-bred hybrids have been ‘turned over’ to police in states across the country and even in Canada and Mexico,” Junmyeon sighs when he picks Jongdae up from the airport in a black federal sedan. “Nobody wants to be associated with these creeps, saying they ‘didn’t know’ they weren’t a ‘reputable breeder’ as if that can even be a thing where sentient beings are involved.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Jongdae huffs. “Buying an unconsenting person to decorate a home or warm a bed already makes them despicable. Let’s hope the hybrids are better off without them, even though they’re about to be divided up by country of parental origin and shipped off to shelters.”

“That will at least be simple enough on paper. The place kept meticulous records, pedigrees, every one of them was carefully identified and logged in a database. Assuming these records are trustworthy, that is. If not, the DNA testing will take ages.”

“Oh, the records probably are accurate,” Jongdae says with a curl of his lip. “Breeders love keeping track of all that shit. They were so proud of all their unnatural crossbreeds.”

“They certainly were,” Junmyeon agrees. “The proprietors are suing to be allowed to keep the frozen sperm samples from the male hybrids so when they’re released from evidence they can start their cattery over, ‘home grown’ this time. They’re quite sure that they haven’t broken any laws and are demanding the return of, or at minimum, compensation for, all the hybrids that the government ‘stole’ from them.”

“Ugh. If hybrids don’t have full citizenship rights by the time those assholes get out of jail I will consider myself a failure.”

“Better find a way to lock them up for a long time then,” Junmyeon chuckles as he parks the car in front of the city shelter holding all of the bussed-in hybrids.

The industrial building feels more like a prison than a happy home, tiny overcrowded rooms lining gray featureless hallways. Jongdae goes room by room, interview by interview, switching between English, Korean, Mandarin, and Japanese so often he’s not fully aware of which language he’s speaking at any given time. Some of them can’t or won’t speak to him at all, simply huddling together and watching him with wary eyes.

It’s a long, heartbreaking process, and the stories he does manage to get are all the same.

A young felid or pantherine woman in Asia goes to let off steam at a hybrid-friendly club. She’s drugged, trafficked, and artificially inseminated. She is always either pregnant, nursing, or both from then on. 

She and the resulting offspring are kept in a literal cage meant to house captive big cats, sharing it with another female hybrid and her young. They aren’t given clothing and are fed only pelletized “hybrid chow” formulated for carnivores. The cement shelter in one corner is little protection against the vicious North Dakota winters until insulated with dried vegetation and their own shed fur, forced to literally nest like animals in order to survive. 

The little family grows by up to one infant per female per year, and when the oldest children are around six years old they are removed for evaluation and sale. Sometimes, a traumatized daughter is returned and left with her mother until she’s of breeding age herself. Rarely, a son is left to mature until just before puberty. More often, they never see their children again. 

If a woman isn’t docile enough, she’s drugged until she is. And if she doesn’t produce at least one live offspring every two years, she’s taken away, leaving her children to be raised by her newly-impregnated young replacement.

Each woman who tells him this does so mechanically, as if it happened to someone else a long time ago. As if they’re not currently nursing a baby, a toddler, or both. As if they’re not also usually pregnant. As if they don’t have three or four other young children hiding behind them, trembling against their back.

It’s worse when the mother is young. These hybrids were at least valuable enough to their producers to refrain from breeding them until they’d reached physical maturity, not out of any moral aversion to babies having babies but purely to avoid any losses in childbirth due to too-narrow hips. But a seventeen-year-old nursing her first child with another on the way is still a difficult sight for Jongdae to see. The fact that this is the first time she’s ever been outside of a cage without being subjected to painful, invasive medical procedures is more difficult to swallow.

The fact that she’s still basically in a cage is worse yet, alleviated only slightly by the fact that she has been given clothing that she doesn’t know how to wear, bedding that’s bundled into a corner rather than left on the provided mattress, and food she doesn’t even recognize as being edible until coached. 

The rescued men are housed in a separate building under increased security. Instead of apathetic, they are angry, combative, only used to seeing other people at all when they’re drugged, restrained, and forced to produce semen via either “electroejaculation” or “testicular aspiration,” terms defined in the medical appendix that Jongdae rather wishes he didn’t have to read.

Jongdae interviews the angriest through windows of reinforced glass, suppressing a flinch every time a fist pounds against the barrier. They have every right to be angry, and he tells them so, and tells them that he is personally working hard to bring them justice. None of them seem to believe him. Jongdae doesn’t blame them.

The calmer ones he interviews one on one across a laminated wood table in a so-called lounge that may as well be an interrogation room. They’re surly, taciturn, wary as a rule, but the ones who do answer his multilingual inquiries seem rational and in command of their faculties, demonstrating the superior feline memory that always seems so remarkable to Jongdae. 

Several of them ask about their children. How many they have, if they’re healthy, if the mothers are doing well. Jongdae says honestly that he doesn’t have details about any of that, but promises just as honestly to find out and come back. They have a right to know, even if they’re fathers only unwillingly.

Junmyeon is there with a cup of coffee when Jongdae emerges from an interview with a young hybrid, white tail both spotted and striped with black, twenty years old but still a boy, really, still lanky with adolescence but moving with a cat’s grace. He’d regarded Jongdae with an even more feline stare, scornful and wary, answering questions only occasionally, usually with a one or two word response in Mandarin, narrowing his eyes over pursed lips if Jongdae asked for further clarification.

“That boy is just the sort of traumatized little thing that Yixing would demand I bring home for him to fuss over,” Junmyeon says as the recalcitrant hybrid saunters off to his room. 

“He could really use some fussing,” Jongdae agrees. “I can’t imagine being born into that life, huddling with mother and siblings for a decade and then being moved to solitary confinement for another decade, seeing other people only when they pour kibble into a hopper outside your cage and then pick up all the waste you’ve flung out so as not to have to live with it in your environment.”

Junmyeon shudders. “Inhumane” doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

“Cruel and unusual is more like it,” Jongdae agrees. “I’ve got one interview left, if you don’t mind waiting? I could use a lift back to the prosecutor’s office.”

“Which one is it?” Junmyeon asks, leaning over to read the tablet in Jongdae’s hand. “Oh, the snowlynx. He doesn’t talk, so you should be in and out and we’ll be on our way.”

Jongdae frowns down at the screen. “I hate when they don’t talk. I hate when they don’t even have _names._ Or stupid ones like ‘Dollhouse Decocats Glacial Frost.” It just makes it easier for people to see them as inhuman.”

“There is an army of social workers in four different countries waiting to get their paws on these cats, and Byun Baekhyun will be arriving to advocate for the Korean-speakers as soon as he can get the repatriation paperwork ready,” Junmyeon assures him. “In the meantime we’ll do our best for them, whether or not we can get them to tell us what they’re thinking.”

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

Humans really must be stupid. That’s the only explanation Minseok can think of for why the more muscular one would send the skinny little one into a room alone with a dangerous predator like himself. 

Minseok could snap this guy like a twig.

Part of him wants to. Wants to be the one to hold a human down for a change, force his body to respond, collect what he produces in a little jar. To yell at him in a language he doesn’t understand while shaking the tiny sample in his face, repeating harsh words that surely are meant to make him feel worthless. To handle him roughly when he’s drugged and restrained and can’t defend himself. To leave him woozy on the ground when Minseok’s done with him.

Each obvious insult, each apparent complaint at how little seed he produced had been precious to Minseok. He’d counted them up as he was manhandled and abandoned, remembering them all six days later when he stroked himself off over and over, emptying his testes into the grass again and again. He did all he could to leave them as dry as possible when the humans came for him at the crack of dawn to perform their weekly theft.

He may not have been able to fight, but that didn’t mean he had to be cooperative.

Minseok might cooperate now, though. His mother had told him that not all humans are bad, that most of them are good, and that when they were taken away from their little family it would be to live with good humans and it would be warm and dry with better food.

That hadn’t been what happened to Minseok, though.

He’d only ever known hard, cruel humans. It would be all too easy to be hard and cruel in response.

But this little human seems as angry as Minseok is, but not in the sour-scented way that the humans who’d collected his seed had been. This anger is sharper, more bitter, making the skinny human’s eyes snap and his voice lower to something like a growl as he’d talked with the muscular one. Then he’d marched into the room with Minseok, alone, unarmed, and foolishly unafraid.

This little human smells and acts much more ferocious than he looks. Minseok likes it.

So when after several unintelligible attempts, the human manages to introduce himself as Kimjongdae in a language Minseok understands, Minseok waits, tail swishing idly, head tilted slightly to one side, ears pointed at the skinny man. And when Kimjongdae asks Minseok if his name is something he reads off the tablet in his hand, Minseok shakes his head.

“I am Minseok.”

It’s funny the way the human gapes and blinks at him for a moment before shaping his face back to politeness and tapping away at the tablet.

“Is this a name you chose for yourself, Minseok?” Kimjongdae asks, offering a small smile.

Minseok furrows his brow. “My mother chose my name. Do human mothers not name their young?”

Kimjongdae’s cheeks darken. “Er, yes, of course, I didn’t mean to imply anything impolite. It’s just that few of the other hybrids have introduced themselves with a name, and those were the ones who’d been trafficked rather than born into captivity.”

Tail thrashing, Minseok narrows his eyes. “You say you aren't impolite, but you use strange words that make you sound like the collectors.”

The human’s dark eyes go wide. “The collectors? Oh—I see. The collectors. No one will collect from you any more.”

“I will _not_ force a female,” Minseok snarls, ears flat and tail lashing. 

Kimjongdae waves his hands placatingly. “Of course not—that’s appalling. Really bad. God.” The human squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. “Minseok. No one has the right to force anyone to breed against their will, male or female, hybrid or not, okay? They shouldn’t have done that to you. To any of you. And I’m here to do my best to keep them from doing that to anyone else ever again.”

Minseok blinks and flicks an ear, tilting his head in the opposite direction. The human reeks of sincerity with a whiff of anger. How odd.

“I am not here to breed?”

The human shakes his head. “No. No more breeding. I mean, unless you want to. Naturally. With whomever you want, as long as they’re an adult and they want to breed with you, too.” His brow furrows. “Didn’t they tell you this already?”

Lots of humans had said lots of things over the last few days, some Minseok understood and some he didn’t. But this human smells nice and he’s smaller than Minseok. He said there would be no more breeding, and he hadn’t stunk of lies. But if he does try to do that or anything else to Minseok, he’s confident he can protect himself against this one small human. So he decides to take his chances now rather than later.

“They said we are safe now. That we will stay in these soft cages until something is finished, and then we will go in a flying cage. It will take us somewhere else far away and safe humans will come who know our language. Then we will choose one and go live in a cage with them.” He looks Kimjongdae up and down once more before nodding, confident in his choice. “You speak my language. I will live in a cage with you.”

The skin on the human’s cheeks gets even darker, like the humans that come to collect from Minseok when it snows. “That’s—you aren’t going to live in a cage anymore. I mean, it will seem like it for a while, because we need your help to put the people who hurt you, the collectors, in prison.”

“Prison?”

“Yes. It’s like a cage for bad humans.”

Minseok smiles, letting his fangs show a little. “The collectors will live in a cage. I will _not_ live in a cage.” It sounds good to him, except— “If I do not live in a cage, where will I live?”

“In a home, hopefully. A house or an apartment.”

Minseok waits, ears flicking, tail swishing.

The human sighs. “Okay, I guess to you they’ll still look like cages. But they’ll be comfortable and warm and safe, and you’ll be able to leave whenever you want.”

“Leave to go where? A different cage?”

Kimjongdae brings his tablet up to his forehead for a moment, then sets it on the table to lean forward and meet Minseok’s gaze. “I am sorry I don’t have better words to explain it. You have the best vocabulary of any hybrid born at Dollhouse that’s been willing to talk to me, so I will try to find ways for you to understand.”

“What is vocabulary?”

“Words. The number of words you know.”

Minseok feels a purr creep into his throat. “My mother was very smart. Before she was our mother, she was learning to be a teacher for young hybrids. She taught all of us to count numbers in our heads and not just on our fingers, and to read and write by drawing with sticks in the dirt. And she taught us to take our food from the hopper on a leaf, and eat it with two sticks and not our fingers. She said we were civilized, even if the humans didn’t treat us that way.”

Kimjongdae nods. “She’s right. You’re a person, even if they treated you like an animal.”

“I am an animal, too,” Minseok states, pivoting his ears and waving his tail. “I am two animals. I should not exist, Mother said. But she loved me anyway. She loved all of us. She cried whenever they took one of us away.”

The human’s scent changes to something softer, almost like he is about to cry, too.

“I’m sorry she had to go through all of that. But there’s no reason you can’t visit her now. I’m sure she’d love to see you.”

“I would love to see her, too,” Minseok says. “But they shot both of us with sleeping darts one day when I was eleven and my youngest sibling was three. I woke up in a cage by myself. I have not seen her since then, but the next day the wind from the south smelled of death.”

The human says nothing for a moment, just stares blankly at the wall, jaw flexing, scent murky with anger. “I will find out, Minseok,” he says, lifting shining eyes to meet Minseok’s gaze. “I will find out what happened to each and every person Dollhouse had anything to do with, and I will hold them accountable.”

“And I must live in this cage until then?” Minseok asks. “And after that I will live in your cage with you?”

Kimjongdae looks at him, lifting both of his eyebrows but just in the middle of his forehead, making them curve like opposite sides of the letter ㅅ, divided in two by his nose.

“Why do you want to live in my cage—my _home—_ with me?”

Minseok shrugs. “You don't smell like the collectors. And if I go with you now, I will not have to go in a flying cage later.”

Kimjongdae’s smile is accompanied by a whiff of unease. “Well, actually, I live far away. In Korea—where your mother was from. I’m here to help prosecute the Dollhouse proprietors—” 

Minseok raises a questioning brow.

“Er, put the collectors in prison. The bad human cage. But after that, I’ll take an airplane—the flying cage—back to my home.”

Tail swishing, Minseok considers. The flying cage doesn’t sound good at all, but it seems that’s his fate regardless. And if he can't have his mother, perhaps he could at least live where she once lived.

So he nods. “Okay. I will go in a flying cage to your home-cage.”

Kimjongdae’s cheeks get darker again. “Er, that’s not—” The human tilts his head, tilts it the other way, then sets his jaw. “You know what? Okay. You can come live with me. How can I call myself an advocate and an ally if I refuse to open my home to a hybrid in need? So yeah. I’ll file to become your sponsor—your assigned human—and if we’re lucky you won’t have to stay here for very long. You can stay with me in my hotel room, which is like the fanciest cage ever, I guess. You deserve fancy for a while to make up for the hovel they forced you to live in.”

Minseok furrows his brow, trying to sort the human’s rambling into important parts. “You will be my human, and I will stay in your fancy hotel-cage, then the flying cage will take us to your home-cage far away in Korea.”

Kimjongdae smiles, wide and curved and showing all his dull human teeth. “Basically, yeah.”

“And if you try to collect from me I will break your arms so you can’t do it again.”

The human pales, scent tinged with alarm. “I’m not gonna do that. It’s your body, not mine. I won’t touch you anywhere unless you want me to.”

“I liked when my denmates touched me,” Minseok says. “If you are my human and I live in your cage, you will be my denmate. So you can touch me, and I can touch you, but no one will be held down and there will be no collecting.”

“Right. Sure. Absolutely no collecting or holding down of any kind.”

Minseok smiles and Kimjongdae smiles back. It’s a nice smile even if the human doesn’t have any fangs.

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

Jongdae manages to fast-track the sponsorship paperwork, pushing it through under the rationale of building rapport so as to make the hybrid comfortable with him, comfortable enough to hopefully agree to participate in the upcoming legal proceedings. And while Jongdae does hope that Minseok will agree—and that he can find some way to get Minseok’s reported experiences admitted into court despite the fact that US law doesn’t consider him a _person,_ capable of legal testimony—Jongdae would push for Minseok’s freedom anyway. 

Not that he’ll truly be free—all the Dollhouse hybrids are technically “assets in custody” until the trial is concluded—but he’ll be free-er. And maybe someday Minseok will actually be able to understand what freedom means. Not just leaving one cage for another, but leaving cages behind all together.

Junmyeon has been amazingly supportive, filing Minseok’s paperwork along with that of the surly Mandarin-speaking “snow tipard.” 

“I’m surprised it took you this long to end up with a hybrid,” Junmyeon comments as Jongdae signs and initials all the required assumptions of responsibility and liability. “You work with them all the time—seems like you’d have a handful of rescues in that penthouse apartment of yours.”

“I don’t have a penthouse,” Jongdae laughs. “I just have a modest little place—I’m not home often enough to warrant living somewhere fancy. And I always thought that it would be harder to serve hybrids as a group if my attention were monopolized by one individual.”

“What changed your mind?”

Jongdae shrugs. “I don’t exactly know. He basically decided he was coming home with me and I couldn’t tell him no after I’d just finished telling him he had the right to bodily autonomy.”

“You mean he pegged you for the sucker you are,” Junmyeon laughs. “If only it were so easy for _our_ guy.”

They’re having a bit more trouble since Junmyeon and Yixing are both naturalized Americans, and while the snow tipard can also be considered American since he was born on US soil, by assigning that designation he’d lose the opportunity to claim Chinese nationality via parentage. The Chinese laws regarding hybrids aren’t the most progressive, but they’re at least concrete. Until it’s clear which nationality will be more beneficial for the hybrid to hold, they’re not willing to make permanent choices on his behalf. In the meantime, Yixing is applying to be a registered hybrid fosterer in the hopes that he can join Junmyeon in North Dakota and at least be allowed to visit their hoped-for family addition. 

But Jongdae is Korean and so was Minseok’s mother, meaning their paperwork goes through much more smoothly. South Korean law is such that hybrids belong to both their registered sponsor and to their sponsor’s country of citizenship, enabling the Republic of Korea to act as the wronged party in any dispute regarding their hybrids. Without waiting for the formal charges of trafficking to be brought against Dollhouse for the “acquisition” of their foreign-born “breeding stock,” Jongdae’s government had been all too willing to extend a basic nationality claim over any and all Dollhouse hybrids “imported” from Korea, their offspring, and their offspring’s offspring.

If there’s one thing Korea does not tolerate, it’s the holding and exploitation of their nationals in foreign countries, _especially_ in anything resembling a sexual capacity. 

With Dollhouse unable to prove they’d acquired Minseok’s mother through legal, verifiable channels, it doesn’t take much to get Minseok officially declared a ward of the Republic of Korea. Jongdae’s sponsorship application is then approved within hours. So a mere two days after he meets the snowlynx hybrid for the first time, Jongdae’s back at the shelter with his tablet to collect Minseok’s palmprint and then Minseok himself, if he’s ready.

The snowlynx isn’t in any of the strangely-empty common areas, so Jongdae tracks him to his room. Minseok’s door is propped open and he’s reclining against the wall opposite, bedding stripped from the mattress and arranged on the floor like most of the Dollhouse hybrids. Jongdae’s heart breaks a little at the idea that none of them are used to even the softness (or lack thereof) of the serviceable shelter beds, but he forces a smile as he approaches. 

He knocks on the doorframe even though Minseok knows he’s there—he watched him walk up and probably smelled him long before he entered the cat’s line of sight. 

“Hey, Minseok,” he greets.

The snowlynx blinks slowly at him, a gesture Jongdae knows felid behavior well enough to reciprocate. Closing one’s eyes in the presence of another indicates a certain level of trust that one won’t be attacked, and this blinked greeting is a whisper of that concept. Minseok doesn’t find Jongdae to be a danger to him, so Jongdae closes his own eyes briefly to indicate that he also feels unthreatened.

But after this initial nonverbal greeting, Minseok just stares at him with those eerily bright silver-green eyes, black-tufted ears trained on him, black-spotted tail twitching idly. He’s wearing the same generic sweatsuit all those without adequate clothing are issued by the shelter, and the white fleece only serves to emphasize his pale skin, silvery hair, and the sooty markings over fur and skin.

Jongdae’s been around many hybrids, a large percentage of them feline. But none of them seem as much of a fearsome predator as this one, and he briefly wonders if bringing this wild creature into his living space is really the safest idea.

But Minseok is not merely an animal, driven only by instinct. He’s also a person who has demonstrated great intelligence, and he has no reason to harm Jongdae and every reason to help him. So Jongdae holds up the tablet, palmprint-collection app at the ready.

“Uh. If you still want to come home with me, you just need to put your hand on this screen and that will finish off the paperwork.”

This earns him an ear twitch and a head tilt. “I can smell your fear. But you close your eyes to me, plan to take me to your cage where you sleep.”

“I do. If you want. I’m not really afraid that you’ll hurt me. I just respect that you could.” Jongdae offers a smile he hopes counteracts whatever nerves the cat can smell.

“I _will_ hurt you,” Minseok says. “But only if you try to hurt me first.”

“Fair,” Jongdae says. “Um. Once you put your hand on the screen, we can leave right away if you want.”

Minseok merely stares at Jongdae for another moment. Then he rises to his feet in one very smooth, very feline movement, padding barefoot across the room to where Jongdae’s proffering the tablet. There’s a silhouette of a hand on the screen and Minseok places his own hand over it, watching curiously as the screen cycles through the scanning process.

Jongdae watches curiously, too, always fascinated by hybrid hands. They’re fully human except for the nails, which vary depending on the hybridized species. As a felid, Minseok has fully retractable claws, leaving only a fold in the tips of his fingers when they’re not on display. The backs of his hands are spotted, as is his face over forehead and temples. It makes Jongdae think about how much of the rest of his skin is spotted, a thought he quickly shuts down before it can cause any changes in his body chemistry detectable to the hybrid’s sensitive nose.

When the tablet beeps in completion, Minseok pulls his hand away and lifts his eyes to study Jongdae, black brows raising a bit. It’s the closest Jongdae has been to the hybrid and he has to remind himself to breathe despite the absolute beauty just before his eyes.

Of course Minseok is beautiful. All the Dollhouse hybrids are. They were intended to be “decocats” after all, bred for aesthetics and exoticism to look lovely draped over someone’s expensive sofa. But Minseok is unlikely to appreciate the fact that Jongdae, like anyone else with working eyeballs, finds him attractive.

So he just smiles gently at his new official sponsee. “We can go whenever you’re ready. It can be now, it can be days or weeks from now. The shelter staff will contact me whenever you ask.”

“I want to leave now,” Minseok says firmly. “This cage has too many males—we don’t want to fight for territory so we all keep to our own little cages. But I am not used to being so confined. I like to inspect the edges of my territory and scent any nearby changes, but my territory here is too small and everything smells like humans.”

“I’m afraid most of the world smells like humans,” Jongdae says wryly. “But you’ll be the only male hybrid in our hotel room and it’s bigger than your room here, at least.”

Jongdae makes to step back into the hallway but Minseok grabs his forearm, fingers gripping firmly but not painfully, claws still retracted. Jongdae’s heart still jumps a little but he doesn’t try to pull away, just waits to see what the snowlynx will do.

“We are denmates now, even if you are a human. Denmates smell like each other, so we will rub scents.”

“Okay,” Jongdae says, a little embarrassed about how relieved he suddenly feels. 

Evidently able to smell something that lets him in on Jongdae’s awkwardness, Minseok smiles as his nostrils flare.

“Humans pretend to be so fearless. As if we can’t tell.” 

“It’s instinctive for us to fear predators bigger than ourselves. My mind knows you have little reason to hurt me, but my nerves still react to having someone dangerous so close,” Jongdae tries to explain, feeling his face heat.

Minseok narrows those gorgeous pale green eyes. “Why do you say things to make me feel strong?”

“Uh, it wasn’t meant to make you feel strong. Just to explain, uh. Why you can probably hear my heart race. And if I smell like I’m worked up a little.”

The snowlynx narrows his eyes further, inhaling deeply. Then he wrinkles his nose. “You smell like too many other humans. You need to smell like me.”

With that he uses his grip on Jongdae’s arm to tug him closer, pressing up against him to rub his face over Jongdae’s cheek, shoulder, and collarbone on both sides. Jongdae’s heart races to be so close to someone so casually able to hurt him any time he chooses, someone so beautiful, someone who had been mistreated by humans his whole life yet is willing to share living space with a human. With Jongdae in particular, instead of waiting to choose from the available hybrid foster homes. The heat of Minseok’s body radiates from his chest into Jongdae’s, the vaguely-antiseptic odor of the shelter’s medicated toiletries surrounds him, and there’s a rumble in the hybrid’s throat that sounds rather like a purr.

When Minseok steps back and releases his arm, Jongdae is surprised to find himself disappointed.

“Good,” the snowlynx says with a nod. “We are denmates. We smell like each other.”

“Good,” Jongdae agrees. “We can go right to the hotel room, or we can stop at the market on the way. Get you some more clothes, soap—you can pick out a smell you like. And we’ll get some food—”

“We will get meat?” 

Jongdae bites his lip to keep from laughing at how eager Minseok looks, ears and tail straight up and quivering. It’s no surprise that after a diet exclusively of kibble for their whole lives, the carnivore hybrids are all very enthusiastic about the fortified meat patties provided by the shelter in addition to things like the fruits and vegetables their human bodies still need. But there’s nothing wrong with an occasional indulgence, so Jongdae releases his lip to grin at the excited snowlynx.

“Sure. We’ll go to a Korean barbecue place. You can try all different kinds of meat.”

“There are _kinds?”_

Jongdae suppresses another laugh. This is going to be fun.

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ


	2. Chapter 2

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

For every discovery Minseok makes about the big human world that he really enjoys, there’s another that he hates. He likes pants but not underwear, appreciating the ability to protect his manhood from eyes and hands that are not his own but disliking the feeling of being so bound up after being nude his entire life. He appreciates having a shirt in the autumn’s chill even though his new cage is inside a bigger cage and not outside where he can be rained or snowed on, but he hates shoes for the same reason he hates underwear.

He likes his blankets but hates the mattress, distrustful of the surface shifting beneath him. He likes the shows on the screen hung from the wall of his cage, but hates the short shows that interrupt the longer ones to try to make him want things he doesn’t understand and must certainly not need to survive if he’s made it this long without them. 

He likes seeing the other male hybrids but not necessarily smelling them, pleased by the fact that there are other people in the world like him, that survived what he survived, and especially pleased that one of them smells enough like himself to be his half-brother, on his father’s side rather than his mother’s since he doesn’t remember the younger man’s scent as one of the siblings he’d grown up with. 

He does not like either seeing or smelling so many humans around, but he makes an exception for Kimjongdae. He smells nice, like honesty and anger, like fear and excitement, like a gathering storm. And now he smells like Minseok, and he’s taking them to a place where Minseok can try  _ different kinds  _ of meat. 

Minseok feels a little dumb for not realizing that animals are basically made of meat. His mother had taught him that actual lynx eat things called rabbits but he’d never seen one, hadn’t seen any animals besides birds that sometimes flew over his cage. He’d seen animals on the screen in his room, but the people on the screen speak the twisting tongue of the collectors, so he still doesn’t know what most of them are called.

The humans that had come to take him out of his cage and put him in a rolling cage and take him to the big shelter cage had also had animals with them, noisy ones that would lunge and slobber as all the hybrids filed past into the rolling cages. Those same animals had showed up on the screen, chasing people and biting their arms. Many of his fellow hybrids had been agitated, coming out of their cages as if to make sure there weren’t any inside the big cage with them. From the repeated word present in the soothing attempts of the non-Korean-speaking staff, Minseok thinks that the pointy eared, bushy-tailed animals are called  _ dogs.  _

Minseok does not like dogs.

So to distract himself from the stomach-flipping sensation of riding in Kimjongdae’s rolling cage—he calls it a  _ car— _ Minseok asks his new denmate questions and tries not to see how quickly the outside is sliding past the windows.

“Can I eat the meat of a dog?”

“A dog?” Kimjongdae repeats the word Minseok uses, then offers another word in the language they share. “A dog, like,  _ woof woof, _ tongue hanging out, wagging tail?”

Minseok wrinkles his nose at the human’s passable imitation of some of the sounds dogs make. “Yes. They are unpleasant.”

Kimjongdae snorts. “Not impressed with the canine units? Well. There are other kinds of dogs, just as there are many kinds of cats. And there are dog hybrids, too.”

“I will not eat a hybrid. Just a regular noisy dog.”

“Of course not—hybrids don’t eat each other, regardless of what their animal heritage is.” The human nudges a stick near the wheel in his hands, making the car produce a rhythmic clicking sound. It continues as Kimjongdae rolls the wheel and the car changes direction, causing Minseok’s stomach to roll along with it. “Well. Dog meat isn’t popular in America, so we won’t be eating any today. If you really want to try it, there are still places in Korea that serve it. It’s becoming less popular, though.”

“Why?”

“Because people like to keep dogs for pets, and many people don’t like to eat the same kind of animal they keep for pets.”

“What kind of animals do people like to eat?”

“Farm animals. They’re raised specifically to be food. Chickens, cows, pigs—”

“Rabbits?”

“Er, yes. Probably not at this restaurant, though. This one’s famous for marinated beef. Steak. Cow.”

Minseok doesn’t know what a cow is but if this human is excited it’s probably tasty. Kimjongdae uses lots of words Minseok doesn’t understand, but he usually tries to explain them, smelling anxious as if it were the human’s fault Minseok has never heard these new vocabularies before. Minseok prefers when the human smells at ease—he’s the first human Minseok has met that doesn’t smell of stiff fabric, some kind of stinging air, or dogs. 

Instead, Kimjongdae often smells like the crackle in the air on hot summer nights when the sky growls and flickers in the distance. But now that he’s relaxed, his scent is more like crunchy fallen leaves, golden sunshine on dry sticks, something warm and savory, making Minseok wonder what he’d taste like when groomed. 

Minseok hasn’t been groomed by anyone else since he’d woken up alone in his cage, reduced to slicing mats from his hair with his claws whenever they became too annoying. At the shelter-cage the humans had made all the hybrids stand in water that fell from overhead like rain except it was warm. And they’d made them scrub with gooey liquid squirted on puffy things—it had stung in his eyes and nose when Minseok had accidentally rubbed his face with it still on his hands. And they had made him use even stronger stingy goo on his hair and fur, something about killing any bugs that might be living on him.

As if a cat would allow such a thing to happen.

Then they’d made him sit on a metal table and a human had tried to look in his mouth and nose with a light but he wore a white coat and smelled like the collectors so Minseok had growled at him until they took their rude hands and gross smells away and left him alone.

Minseok had spent rather a long time grooming himself  _ properly _ after that, so now he only smells vaguely of the stingy human goo. And unlike the collectors or that other human who did things to his body without permission, Minseok had informed his new denmate what he wanted to do. And Kimjongdae had agreed to rub scents with him, to be proper denmates. Now Kimjongdae smells like him and Minseok smells a bit like Kimjongdae, with that warm woody scent.

Maybe, since they’re denmates now, Kimjongdae will groom Minseok. And then Minseok can groom the human, too, and find out how exactly a human tastes.

In the meantime Minseok is excited to find out how different meats taste. He’s even more excited when the car stops in front of a cage with words on it that Minseok can actually read. There are words on lots of the cages nearby, too, but they’re not in the symbols Minseok knows, the ones he’d traced in the dirt over and over, the ones with which he’d written little messages to his mother and siblings.

“Meat! It says ‘meat!’” Minseok crows to Kimjongdae, who blinks at Minseok, then the words, then grins at him.

“It does,” he says. 

And Minseok is so proud and happy and excited right up until they try to go into the meat-cage and a human lady frowns at them. She says something to Kimjongdae in a harsh tone and he answers with a polite one but she shakes her head.

Kimjongdae turns back to Minseok with sad eyes. “She says you’re not allowed in here. The laws here say you’re just an animal, and animals aren’t allowed inside most restaurants.”

“I am not just an animal,” Minseok protests, entirely indignant. “I am also a civilized person.”

The woman gasps. “Oh, excuse me,” she says in Minseok’s own language. “I didn’t know you could actually talk! I thought that was just on TV.”

“Of course I can talk,” Minseok scowls.

“Mom! You’re being rude to customers.” A young woman heads towards them with two flat rectangles in her hands. “I’m so sorry, sirs. My mother makes the best marinades in the city but she doesn’t get out much. Please forgive her ignorance. I'm Wendy—table for two, was it?”

The woman’s smile is friendly and she smells sincere, so Minseok smiles back. “Yes. Thank you. I really want to eat meat.”

“Then you’ve come to the right place,” the woman laughs, setting the rectangles on the table she leads them to.

The rectangles turn out to be a list of all the kinds of meats that people can ask for. Minseok is thrilled to be able to read the words—thrilled enough that he can’t help reading  _ all _ of them, out loud, carefully sounding out the unfamiliar ones so Kimjongdae can explain the new vocabularies, smelling so pleased, smiling so wide. But Minseok doesn’t really know the difference between a chicken meat and a beef meat except that they come from different animals. He doesn’t know how they taste, which ones are the yummiest, how many meats he will be able to fit inside his belly. So he agrees when Kimjongdae suggests they share a  _ sampler, _ explaining it’s a way to try small amounts of lots of different things, so they can ask for more of what Minseok likes best.

Minseok grins when Wendy brings them a huge tray with a big pile of animal parts that already smell way better than his kibble had tasted. He’d have started eating right away but Kimjongdae stops him, laying the meats out on the round fence of metal suspended sideways in the center of their table over something that glows bright gold and gives off so much heat it’s painful to lean too close. It’s so hard not to lean in, though, because the smell is absolutely  _ wonderful. _ Ears and attention focused entirely on the meats, Minseok squirms impatiently, tail flicking, until the human says he can finally pick bits of meat off the fence—a  _ grill, _ Kimjongdae calls it—using his claws to avoid touching the too-hot meats with his bare fingers.

Kimjongdae laughs whenever Minseok does this, loud but not mean. He laughs more when Minseok hisses at the meats until they're cool enough to put in his mouth without burning himself. Kimjongdae puts more meats on the grill and uses metal sticks—much sturdier than the thin twigs Minseok is used to using—to pull his own bits of meat from the heat. Then he blows on his portion before eating it, so Minseok doesn’t feel like he’s embarrassing himself too badly by hissing at his.

He wouldn’t care even if he were, because the meats are really, really good. He can't help but smile and wiggle in his seat, face scrunched, unable to stop the happy little noises that sneak out through his nose when his mouth is full of the hot, savory goodness. 

Adjusting to food other than the kibble he'd eaten his whole life has been, like everything else he's encountered outside of his cage, a mixed experience. He has little use for vegetables and less use for fruits. Rice and noodles seem weird and mushy after the crunch of the kibbles, like they'd sat in rainwater and gone soggy. But even though meat isn't crunchy, either, he likes that the best, and the circular patty meats at the shelter can't compare to any of this new meat. He likes the chicken and the pork well enough, but the beef is the best and he eats so much of it that his stomach hurts.

“I need a nap,” Minseok moans when he finally can’t put any more meats into his belly.

Kimjongdae laughs again and Minseok loves that the sound is so different from the laughter of the collectors. It’s friendly, kind, like when his mother would laugh at his siblings learning to walk and falling on their round little rumps.

“A nap sounds great,” Kimjongdae agrees. “We can go shopping later to get you more of your own things to wear, but we’re close to the same size. You’re a little broader than I am, but I tend to buy my leisure clothes a little loose to make up for wearing tailored suits at work all the time. So you can borrow them if you want. Er—we’d have to make a slit for your tail. But that’s fine—anything at all I can do to make you comfortable, just let me know, okay?” 

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

Jongdae has reason to regret his words when the snowlynx has finished his lengthy pre-nap inspection and scent-marking of their hotel room. Thankfully, he doesn’t try to pee on anything. He just rubs his face and shoulders on every vertical and some horizontal surfaces, saying he couldn’t sleep if it smelled too much like strange human in their den.

Evidently Jongdae doesn’t count as a strange human, because Minseok eagerly trades his sweatpants for Jongdae’s flannel pajama bottoms, solving the tail issue with one razor-sharp claw. The hybrid hadn’t bothered with underwear, apparently. He also apparently doesn’t mind giving Jongdae a flash of the goods as he trades one set of pants for the other. Then Minseok wants one of Jongdae’s T-shirts as well, pulling the sweatshirt off to reveal an incredibly toned body. 

Jongdae could have lived the rest of his life without knowing how beautifully sculpted his new “denmate” is. Or how striking the inky spots over his pale skin are, sprinkled across his back and sides and down the outsides of his arms and legs. Or that the hair beneath those arms and between those legs is a snowier shade than the silver of his head, ears, and tail. And that unlike the smudges of soot among the silver, the snowy patches of body hair are as unmarked as the rest of his front, like it’s all part of a big cat’s pale undercarriage.

But the rest of his life isn’t going to last very long, because the snowlynx, after deciding the memory-foam mattress is acceptable to sleep on because it’s not “wiggly,” looks at Jongdae expectantly from beneath the down comforter.

“Why are you still over there?”

“Er, there’s a folding bed in the closet,” Jongdae remembers. “I’ll just—” 

“This giant human bed will fit both of us. And we need to cuddle anyway. It’s cold.”

It is cold, and the idea of crawling into a warm bed with a warm bed partner on a crisp autumn night is incredibly appealing even if said bed partner is merely platonic. So Jongdae changes his own business suit for pajamas and climbs in beside the snowlynx, trying to act casual even though he’s sure he smells rather freaked out.

“We are denmates,” Minseok says, arranging himself up against Jongdae’s side beneath the blankets. “We share warmth. There’s no need to smell so scared.”

“Right,” Jongdae agrees, trying to slow his heart rate. “I’m not really scared. I’m just not used to having someone so close. Not that I don’t like it! Just that, well. I haven’t had a, er. Human equivalent of a denmate in a long time.”

Minseok nods at him, big silver-green eyes serious. And so close to him. “But we are denmates now, and we don’t have to be cold anymore.”

As if that settles the issue, Minseok settles against Jongdae, head against his shoulder, the tuft of one ear brushing against his cheek. The hybrid is indeed warm, pleasantly so, and Jongdae shifts the arm pinned between their bodies to be wrapped around Minseok’s shoulders instead. It’s meant to be companionable but it feels like more than that, especially when Minseok simply adjusts to fit better against his side. The snowlynx smells faintly peppery and the scent of grilling meat lingers on them both and it’s the coziest scenario Jongdae has found himself in in years.

It’s basically torture.

“It is good to nap with a denmate again,” Minseok says. “I missed being warm when the nights are longer than the days.”

Jongdae grabs on to the flash of righteous anger this line of thought offers, holding it like a shield between himself and any longing of the flesh.

“I can’t believe they didn’t even give you so much as a fucking  _ blanket,” _ he fumes. “It’s a wonder none of you froze to death.”

“When I was with my family, sometimes I would get too hot in our den during the winter with all of us crowded inside. I would push over closer to the door, let my back cool in the snowy air.” He makes a fond little huff at the memory and it’s more than a little unsettling, that the hybrid sounds almost nostalgic for such inhumane conditions. 

“It was much worse when I was alone, though.” Minseok’s ear flicks against Jongdae’s cheek. “But I did all right. I would gather twigs and grass when the days started getting shorter. Leaves, too, when they started to fall. I packed my den well, so there was only room for my body in the very center, all curled up. Then neither the biting cold of the air or the aching chill of the cement could touch my skin.”

Minseok stretches his limbs, setting legs and tail vibrating beneath the blanket for a moment before draping several of them over Jongdae. Then he yawns wide, lips pulling back to reveal dusky pink gums and bright white teeth, raspy tongue protruding between long, sharp canines before curling back on itself and being withdrawn. Jongdae’s heart kicks up at this reminder that no matter how cute and soft the snowlynx may look when he’s warm, well-fed, and drowsy, he is no vulnerable kitten.

Minseok smiles, nostrils flaring as he smacks his lips a bit. “This is much better, though. To sprawl comfortably with my denmate, even if he is a human. I like that you pretend not to be afraid. You display trust that I will not hurt you, and I will do the same. I will sleep, and you will sleep, and neither of us will betray the other.”

“Never,” Jongdae promises, because who the fuck could ever?

Who the fuck could look at Minseok, speak with him, and deny that he’s a person?

How the fuck is Jongdae supposed to lie there with Minseok’s tail curled across his knees, heart hammering beneath a hand adorned with charming spots and dangerous claws, and forget that he’s part wild animal?

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

When Minseok wakes up he’s still delightfully warm. Dreamily cozy. And pressed against someone, someone who smells like wood and human instead of sweat and cat. It’s not what he’d had before but it’s still nice, and for several long moments Minseok just purrs, enjoying the sensations of companionship and coziness after so long alone and uncomfortable.

Kimjongdae is asleep, one arm still draped over Minseok’s shoulders, breathing deep and even below Minseok’s ear. One of Minseok’s legs is across the human’s hips and Minseok can feel the soft bulge of Kimjongdae’s manhood against his inner thigh.

It’s really, really nice. The whole thing, not just the manhood beneath his leg. But it probably is a nice manhood. The rest of Kimjongdae’s body is nice, so it would make sense.

He’d been so blushy and insecure-smelling when he’d changed earlier, but he has a trim, toned figure, not nearly as muscular as Minseok but still nice. Not tubby like the lead collector, the one in the white coat that smelled the most like stinging. Kimjongdae might not spend all his time burning off energy lifting his own bodyweight in various ways like Minseok used to. But he still had a hint of visible abs when he’d pulled off his shirt, a sprinkle of little spots over his sunny skin, and a tiny little waist that made Minseok hungry despite his belly full of meat.

And now he looks sweet and kittenish, the human’s lips still curling up toward a smile even when asleep. Minseok’s mother had said most humans were nice and Minseok has to admit she was right. Well, perhaps  _ nice _ isn’t the word, but humans were the ones that came with their flashing lights and their too-loud dogs to lock up the collectors and the rest. And humans run the shelter-cage and Kimjongdae had told him the day they’d met that it’s just the shelter, not a cage, he’s not a prisoner, he’ll be much more free to live his own life after the trial and he doesn’t even have to help with the trial if he “isn’t comfortable” with it. 

Minseok is currently comfortable with very few things. But one of those things has his arm wrapped around Minseok, and that same guy really, really wants to make the collectors go to the bad human cage—the prison. He may not be a cat or even a hybrid of any kind, but Kimjongdae has turned out to be a good denmate so far, sharing food and warmth with Minseok. And Minseok will be a good denmate in turn. He will share his teeth and claws, protecting the slender little human from anyone who tries to hurt him. And he will take care of him properly.

So Minseok lifts himself up on an elbow again, leaning over the sleeping human and grooming his hair, smoothing sleep-mussed locks back into place and then continuing for the sake of bonding, purrs rumbling in his throat.

Kimjongdae shifts. “...Min?”

“Nnh?”

“...Are you licking me?”

“‘M groomin’ you.”

A pause. “Because we’re denmates?”

“Nyeah. ‘N’ because you taste nice.” It’s a bit of a lie—the human’s hair tastes of something sharp and bitter at first, but a few swipes of the tongue quickly remove whatever that is and then he just tastes like Kimjongdae, warm and pleasant. 

“...O… kay?”

The human doesn’t move or otherwise object, so Minseok resumes his task. A moment later, Kimjongdae huffs, amusement in his voice.

“I didn’t know big cat hybrids could purr like this.”

“‘M a lynx. Lynx purr.”

“It’s really nice to hear.”

Minseok purrs louder at this, licking the human’s hair with his raspy tongue a few more times before he settles against him, forehead pressed to temple, still purring softly in the back of his throat. Cats are solitary creatures but humans aren’t, and Minseok is as much human as he is animal, if not more so. It feels really, really good to have a denmate again.

“...Can I groom you, too?” Kimjongdae asks, scent unconfident.

“If you want,” Minseok says, unable to stop his purrs from increasing at the thought. He’d done his best in the reflective silver surface called a “mirror” at the shelter—much better than a puddle after a rainstorm, but still difficult to make his hands in the mirror move the way he wanted them to. So he knows that his own hair, instead of being trimmed neatly, is ragged and rough. And there are a few mats on the back of his head so close to the skin that he can’t get a finger underneath to claw them out.

There had been a “salon” at the shelter, offering trims and claw care. But it had reeked of stinging air and even though the human inside had smiled at him, the sharp scent and the sharp tools had made him slink away, ears flat and tail puffed.

So when Kimjongdae pats Minseok’s shoulder with a “Be right back,” he tries not to feel any anxiety at their mid-grooming separation. And the human is right back, bringing a brownish bundle that has a slim metallic stripe down the center. When Kimjongdae pulls on a little tab, the metal line separates into interlocking rows of teeth, allowing the bundle to open and reveal strange things inside it.

“It’s my shaving kit. I keep all my toiletries in it—my soap, shampoo, deodorant, and so on when I travel.”

Minseok nods, recognizing some of the words from when he’d been instructed to scrub himself at the shelter. Now that it’s open, the kit smells like the things inside it, the woody smell and other, stronger scents that sit in the back of his throat. But before the metal teeth had opened up, it had smelled familiar. 

“Is it made of… steak?”

The human laughs. “Does it smell a little like the raw beef before we cooked it earlier? It’s made from leather—the skin of an animal, usually a cow. So yeah, it probably smells a bit similar.”

Kimjongdae pulls things out of the kit and lays them on the bed, naming them as he goes. Minseok picks up the soap and shampoo and tries to smell them, hissing a bit until he manages to pop up the little holes that let the goo (and the smell) out of the bottles. He sniffs and sneezes, shaking his head to clear the strong, bright scent from his nostrils.

“Sorry,” the human laughs. “I won’t use them on you—products made for hybrids usually have much gentler scents, and the ones for felines are specifically mild-flavored so as not to interfere with grooming.”

“Oh,” Minseok says. “Well. What is thi—” He chokes on the scent rolling from the thing called deodorant.

Kimjongdae laughs again, that bright, friendly laugh that Minseok enjoys even when it’s triggered by his own actions. “Humans sweat more than hybrids, and it makes us stink. We use this so we don’t smell dirty.” He takes the stinky thing from Minseok and sets it aside along with all the other bottles and Minseok decides he doesn’t want to sniff more of them if they’re anything like the first three. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not planning to punish your delicate nose—I just wanted my comb,” the human says, holding up a flat black thing with teeth similar to the  _ forks  _ the shelter had available for the hybrids to eat with. “And we might need the clipper.” He holds up another thing, black and shaped a little like the lights the collectors would carry sometimes when it was dark outside. But when he moves his thumb, a little edge pops up. It buzzes for a moment before his thumb moves again to silence it.

“I’m not a barber or anything,” Kimjongdae says, sounding sorry about it. “But I can at least make you a bit more comfortable, if you let me.”

In answer, Minseok blinks slowly at the human, purr returning to his throat when the human blinks slowly back at him.

“Will you turn around, then?” 

Kimjongdae gestures and Minseok shifts to present the human his back, catching his uneasy tail and holding it still so the human can move close behind him on the bed and not accidentally lean on it.

“This’ll sound weird and buzzy but it’s not going to cut you or anything, okay? It might feel a bit painful when I tug on the mats but I’ll try to be as gentle as I can.”

“Okay,” Minseok agrees. They’re alone in the room and even with the clipper this human is unlikely to be able to seriously hurt Minseok before he can turn the tables. He trusts Kimjongdae—he’d easily fallen asleep against his new denmate—but a lot of that trust is knowing that the human isn’t much of a threat.

So while Minseok doesn’t purr as Kimjongdae works, he does hold still, tolerating the occasionally-sharp tugs at his hair and allowing the clipper to buzz near his ears. 

“There, no more mats,” the human announces, but he continues to run the comb and his fingers through Minseok’s hair until he relaxes, letting himself purr softly again and closing his eyes to better absorb the shivery sensations. Kimjongdae’s fingers move to Minseok’s ears, stroking and petting them gently until his pinky snags beneath the fluff.

“What’s this?”

“Stupid holes,” Minseok says, flattening his ears to hide them and swallowing back a growl. 

The hybrids had gone from their cages into the big rolling cage—the bus—wearing the numbered identifiers the collectors had punched through their ears. When they’d exited the bus at the shelter, not a one of them had one anymore. Most of them had never met, but as soon as they understood they were being taken away and therefore were unlikely to be punished for doing so, they’d used teeth and claws to help each other remove the only thing the collectors had ever made them wear.

“Oh, from the ear tags?” the human asks, scent going sour.

“I hate them,” Minseok says, unsuccessful at suppressing his snarl. “My ears. They hurt so bad, and now I have  _ holes.” _

“I’m sorry,” Kimjongdae says, voice soft as he runs gentle fingers over the folded ears. “But having holes doesn’t have to be bad. I mean, I had holes put in my ears on purpose, so I could wear jewelry.”

“Jewelry?” Minseok turns around to examine the human’s ears.

“Yes. Like, body decorations. I don’t wear my earrings much anymore—as a lawyer, sometimes they’re considered unprofessional. But I still have the holes, see?”

Kimjongdae turns the side of his head to Minseok, tugging at an ear as if to point out the small holes poked through it.

“Those are tiny. On the edge. Mine are big and closer to the middle.”

“True, but we could still find you jewelry to wear in them, if you wanted.”

The human reaches for his tablet, swiping at the screen for a bit before handing it to Minseok. Minseok stares, only peripherally aware of Kimjongdae putting his things away and collecting the fallen mats to remove from the bed.

On the screen is a smiling hybrid, something with round fuzzy ears. Those ears have a big ring of metal through one and a circle of something in the middle of the other that sparkles in the moving image like snow in the sunlight.

“What is that?” Minseok asks, fingertip touching the screen. It makes the picture stop moving, so he taps it again, staring as the hybrid tilts her head back and forth to make the things in her ears catch the light.

“Probably a lab-created sapphire for it to be that big. They come in lots of colors, too, not just clear.”

“I like blue,” Minseok says. His mother taught him the sky is blue among other things, and he’d always loved the contrast of the sky against the trees and the dark birds and light clouds.

“Then we’ll get you blue sapphire earrings if you want,” Kimjongdae smiles.

Minseok is really starting to love that smile. And he loves the laugh that rings out when he pets his denmate’s furless, stationary, also-pierced ears.

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

Minseok is somehow both dangerous and adorable, and it’s a combination that keeps Jongdae’s heart racing and gut squeezing basically all the time. It’s really unfair. It’s also unfair that he’s so cuddly. And then there’s all the petting and licking. 

How is he supposed to remain detached and professional? Or even attached and platonic?

He doesn’t think he can.

He does his best, though, pulling away from the purring hybrid’s ear stroking before it causes Jongdae’s scent to shift to anything betraying. Minseok’s ears flicker above an uncertain face and oh. no—there’s no way Jongdae can withstand it if the snowlynx decides to pout.

“We should go shopping,” Jongdae says quickly. “Get you some clothes. And toiletries. Snacks.”

“Oh.” Minseok frowns. “But I like wearing  _ your _ clothes. It’s important for denmates to smell like each other.”

“We will.” Jongdae assures him. “Whatever hybrid-friendly shampoo and stuff you like, I’ll use it too.”

Minseok curls a lip. “I do not like shampoo,” he says. “It stings.”

“Oh, at the shelter? Well, you probably hadn’t had a shower in a while—er, ever, actually—”

“I hid from the rain showers in my den,” Minseok states. “I do not like when water gets in my ears. I have to hold them like this.” He demonstrates turning the backs of his ears toward the sky, making them point straight out to either side like tufted airplane wings. “My family groomed each other to stay clean. I am glad to have a denmate again so I can be well groomed.”

Jongdae’s heart melts. “I’m happy to help you groom. We can take baths instead of showers, and we don’t have to use the extra-strength medicated shampoo like at the shelter. We can use something gentle that will smell nice and not taste like anything. And we can put cotton puffs in your ears to keep any stray water out of them.”

Minseok’s disgust relaxes off his face the more Jongdae reassures him. “Okay,” he finally nods. “We will take baths. We will use nice shampoo and it won’t sting?”

“No stinging,” Jongdae promises. 

“Then let’s go. I want to know what is snacks.”

Jongdae is unsurprised that Minseok loves the idea of snacks. The hybrid loves shopping in general, thrilled to have choices about what he eats and what he smells like for the first time ever. 

They do get a few odd looks—the capital city of North Dakota is tiny compared to Seoul and evidently that whole hybrids-are-animals idea is prevalent. But Jongdae is both foreign in one of the whitest cities in the US and wearing his impressive suit from that morning, part of the peacockery of lawyering that dictates that good lawyers win, are therefore rich, and therefore wear the most ridiculously expensive clothes. It’s the dumbest type of posturing, but combined with the try-me expression he directs at every frowning local, it’s enough to allow the pair to shop in peace.

When they get to the much-anticipated snack aisle, the hybrid loads the shopping cart with every variety of meat jerky the store has. Jongdae swallows a laugh when Minseok practically runs along the aisle, grabbing as many packages as he can carry before scampering back over, dumping them in the cart, and giving Jongdae a devastating grin before darting off again.

The snowlynx is less enthusiastic about fruits and vegetables. Jongdae knows that a lot of carnivore hybrids like crunchy things—a slightly-creepy holdover from their animal ancestors who gnawed on bones—so Jongdae adds celery, cucumbers, and carrots to the pile of dried meats.

He hesitates in the fruit section. “What apple do you want to try?” he asks. “They have green, red, and yellow ones.”

Minseok bounds over to Jongdae but frowns at the pyramid of fruit. “These are apples?” 

Jongdae nods.

“Most of them look like mud,” he states. He steps up to the display and selects a yellow apple, sniffing it cautiously. “This one looks clean and bright. Humans really eat mudfruit?”

_ Mudfruit? _ “They don’t look anything like mud. Mud is brown, these apples are red and green—” He blinks as a thought crosses his mind. 

Turning back to the cart, he holds up the bundles of celery and carrots. “Minseok, what are the biggest differences between these two vegetables?”

Minseok shrugs. “One is round. The other has a dent in it.”

Now it’s Jongdae’s turn to frown at the stack of apples. Sure, most non-primate mammals lack the capacity to differentiate between red and green, but aside from tending to resemble their animal ancestor in hue, a hybrid’s eyes are essentially human. There are of course colorblind humans, too, but Jongdae wonders if Minseok’s visual deficiency is related to his being conceived under the influence of those DNA-blending fertility drugs. Perhaps the Dollhouse hybrids are more animalistic than average, but if they are, there’s nothing that can be done about it now except for to ban that experimental drug from ever being developed or used again.

So Jongdae smiles reassuringly at the confused snowlynx. “No wonder blue is your favorite color. Blue and yellow are the brightest and clearest colors for you.”

“Yellow is nice,” Minseok agrees, looking at the apple in his hand. “Sometimes yellow birds would fly over my cage. And pretty yellow flowers would often bloom in my cage.”

He smiles at Jongdae. Jongdae can’t help but smile back. “Well. If these apples look like mud, maybe find a fruit that looks yummy.”

Minseok looks around, then heads straight for the citrus section to pick up a nice big grapefruit, bright yellow rind evidently appealing to him. But then the hybrid sniffs at it before recoiling in horror, face twisted with disgust.

“This is poison,” he states, voice as flat as his ears. His tail swishes rapidly as he all but glares at Jongdae.

Jongdae has been a lawyer for a long time and has had to remain professional through many trying situations. He has an excellent poker face, but he has to clench his jaw painfully hard not to burst into laughter at the hybrid’s offended reaction.

“Grapefruits do have a strong flavor. And scent. Most citrus fruits do. Um…” Jongdae looks around, then steps over to the berry section. “Here—these are blue. Let’s try some blueberries.”

“Blueberries,” Minseok repeats, accepting the container Jongdae hands him and sniffing at it cautiously. “They don’t really smell like anything.”

“Not when the skin is still intact, but they taste good,” Jongdae says, then reaches to stop the hybrid from opening the package. “We have to pay for it first.”

“Pay for it?”

“Yeah. We can’t just take things, we have to give the shopkeepers money in return.”

“Money?”

Jongdae smiles at Minseok’s scrunched forehead. “Money is a sort of reward for someone’s work. It gets traded around, like, I get paid to be a lawyer—to make sure people who break laws are punished. For my work, I get paid money, and then I give it to those who do work for me or provide things I want or need. Remember, at the barbecue place, I gave my card and signed my name?”

Minseok nods. “We ate the meat  _ first _ though.”

“We did,” Jongdae nods. “Restaurants—where they provide you with one meal—are like that. But in shops, even ones that sell food, we pay for things first.”

Minseok allows the blueberries to be withdrawn from his fingers and set in the cart alongside the rest of their choices. “I need to do  _ work _ so I can get money? To pay for meat?”

Jongdae shakes his head. “In this country, only humans work and get paid.” He tries not to wince at the thought that there are probably many hybrids working in the US and  _ not _ getting paid. “But you don’t need to worry—I have plenty of money, okay? We can buy everything we need.”

Evidently satisfied with that, Minseok nods. “We will buy meat,” he states, peering down at the pile of jerky packages in their cart, tail quivering as it lifts to curve happily over his back.

“We already have plenty of meat for now,” Jongdae laughs. “Let’s go sniff the toiletries and then we can head out to another shop.”

“To buy clothings?”

“Yes, to buy clothes.” 

“We should buy matching clothes,” Minseok states, trotting beside Jongdae as he pushes the cart toward the Health & Beauty section. “My family were all either lynx or snow leopard so we all looked a bit alike. You don’t look anything like me, but we can wear matching clothes so we still look like we belong to each other.”

Is it possible to die from heart-squishing feelings? Jongdae may just find out the hard way.

“Minseok, you don’t  _ belong _ to me, okay? I’m your sponsor, but you’re still your own person.”

The snowlynx tilts his head. “Why can I not be  _ your _ person?”

“Because you’re not an object to be owned!” Jongdae runs his fingers through his hair, unsure how to explain this concept to someone literally created to be property. “Look, Minseok. Everyone has the right to be free, okay? Not in a cage, not on a leash, not displayed as living art, but  _ free. _ To make their own choices. To live their own life.”

Minseok’s tail swishes as he looks at Jongdae like he’s a little slow. “I always make my own choices,” Minseok says. “I may have been born in a cage but that does not make me powerless. My mother taught us that we can choose to give up and be the animals they see us as, or we can take charge of our own happiness. That we can eat like civilized people even if they feed us animal food. That we can make our shelter into a cozy den, clean and comfortable. That we can maintain our hygiene and take care of ourselves and each other.”

Those icy green eyes hold Jongdae as captive as if he were the one in the cage. “We were happy, Kimjongdae. We laughed, played games, told stories. We were a family and we belonged to each other, until the collectors took us away one by one.”

Minseok’s eyes cloud and he studies the spotted backs of his hands. “Even now, I miss it. I understand that it is nicer to sleep in a bed in a hotel instead of in a pile of leaves and grass on the cement, but I loved and knew I was loved. The worst part of my life was not being in a cage. It was being  _ alone.” _

Jongdae feels like a jerk. He mentally berates himself as he pulls the hybrid into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs as Minseok presses his face to Jongdae’s shoulder. “I’m sorry they broke up your family. I’m sorry it took anyone thirty years to rat those bastards out. And I’m sorry if I made you feel alone again. We can belong to each other, Min.”

“Because we  _ choose _ to,” Minseok insists.

“Because we choose to,” Jongdae agrees. “Of course you make your own choices—you chose me from the beginning, and I’m so glad you did. I’m so proud to be your denmate, even if I’m a rather bad one at times.”

“You’re not bad. Just a little stupid.”

Jongdae laughs. “I will try to be less stupid. Please be patient with me.”

Minseok pulls away to rub his cheekbone against Jongdae’s and then regard him with soft celadon eyes. “You are patient with me,” he says, gaze intense as always. “You will teach me your human world and I will teach you to be a good denmate. We will take care of each other, Kimjongdae.”

“We will,” Jongdae agrees. “But you don’t have to call me by my full name. We’re close enough that you can just call me Jongdae if you want.”

The snowlynx tilts his head. “Shortening names is what humans do when they’re close? Like calling me Min?”

Jongdae feels himself blush. “Sorry—would you prefer I call you Minseok?”

“I like being close with my denmate. You can call me Min and I will call you Dae. That is the shortest, because we are the closest.”

“We are,” Jongdae agrees, releasing his hold on the hybrid’s torso and taking his hand instead. “Let’s go pick some things to make us smell alike, then we can go pick clothes to let us dress alike.”

“Yes,” Minseok says. The long black tufts at the tips of his ears bounce a bit as he pricks them up excitedly. “But we are not smelling like grapefruits. Those things are  _ nasty.” _

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

Shopping with Kimjongdae—no, just  _ Dae, _ because his denmate wants to be close with him—is really fun. It’s less fun that people stare at them and whisper to each other, and it makes Minseok very self-conscious to be the only hybrid anywhere in sight.

“Dae,” he murmurs as the human holds a sweatshirt up against Minseok’s back. “You said hybrids aren’t supposed to live in cages.”

“They’re not.”

“But there aren’t any other hybrids loose like me.”

Dae sighs, trading the shirt in his hands for another from the ring of hanging clothing beside them. “There probably aren’t many hybrids in this city at all except for the ones rescued from Dollhouse, and because they’re traumatized and don’t know the world very well, it’s not safe for them to leave the shelters until they have human sponsors, which unfortunately won’t happen until the trial is over and they’re sent to their country of origin.”

“But you are sponsoring me now.”

“Yes. Some of the hybrids could choose to be sponsored now, too, by Americans—the ones that were born here, including yourself, could potentially be legally adopted by people from this country. But given the fact that no one around here seems to have seen a hybrid before outside of TV or knows how to treat you, I’m guessing they won’t find sponsors until the trial’s over and they can either go to a more hybrid-friendly state or choose to go back to their parent’s country.”

Dae adds more sweatshirts to their rolling bin. “But since I’m a Korean citizen and you’re Korean by parentage, we’re able to skip the step where you have to go to Korea before finding a sponsor.”

He smiles at Minseok, the one that makes his lips curl all the way up and it’s really cute. “There are lots of loose hybrids in Seoul. The laws still aren’t great—hybrids can’t live on their own, they have to live with a human, but they can go to school specifically for hybrids and get simple jobs, though their pay is dispensed in their human’s name since they can’t legally have their own bank accounts and that leaves lots of room for exploitation—”

Dae chuckles at whatever expression Minseok is making. “Sorry. The part you’re likely to care about is that when we are in Korea you’ll see lots of hybrids in public. So while people will probably still stare at you a little—you’re very distinctive—it’ll be from curiosity or attraction, not this ignorance we’re dealing with here.”

“Ignorance is because they don’t get out much?”

Dae laughs. “Yes, basically.”

“Then I am ignorant, too.” Minseok’s ears droop. He doesn’t want to be like these humans but he probably is, staring at all the things around him he’s never seen before.

“You are,” Dae agrees, but he wraps an arm around Minseok’s shoulders and gives him a reassuring squeeze. “Luckily, ignorance is curable. You’re doing great. I’m really proud of my denmate.”

Minseok finds himself purring at the memory of Dae’s words the whole time they’re shopping.

They buy lots of comfortable clothes, mostly yellow and blue, all different shades. Minseok is a bit sad to realize he doesn’t see as many different colors as the human. He’s pretty sure his mother could see all the colors—she taught him that blood is red and grass is green but he hadn’t ever seen blood and grass together. He never realized that they look kind of the same—it had never been important to him before.

Dae points out that Minseok can probably see really well at night, but it’s not until the two of them leave the clothing shop that Minseok realizes just how blind his human denmate is. Although the sun had gone down a while ago, Minseok can still see the world clearly in soft shades of gray. But when he catches sight of an animal moving between the clothing shop and the cage— _ building— _ next to it, he is surprised that Dae can’t even see it.

“It is just there, by those large stinky… things.”

“The dumpsters? Wow, you can see that far into the alley?”

“Yes?” Minseok says curiously, tilting his head to look at the human blinking into the night. “It has darker fur near its eyes and has a stripey tail. Is it a cat?” Minseok would really like to see a real cat.

“Oh!” Dae laughs. “Then it’s a raccoon. That’s amazing that you can see it that well.”

Minseok feels a warm rush at the human’s admiration even as he knows it’s silly to be proud of something he was just born able to do. He was proud when he learned all his hangul. He was proud when he managed to climb all the way to the fenced-over top of his cage. Being proud of his eyesight seems like cheating.

But suddenly seeing fewer colors seems less important. Being able to see in the dark is useful, whereas colors are only pretty. And blue and yellow are pretty enough.

Dae is pretty, too. Not pretty like Minseok’s mother or sisters or even the other denmother in the cage Minseok grew up with, who he’d sometimes dreamt about after the fur had grown between his legs, even though he hadn’t seen her in years by that point.

No, Dae is pretty in a sharper way. Handsome. For some reason, it makes Minseok want to bite him.

But Minseok doesn’t bite Dae—it would be extremely rude after the human had gotten so many new things just for Minseok, to make him comfortable and warm and well-fed in their temporary hotel-den. Instead, he bites the meat they have for dinner.  _ Fried chicken, _ Dae calls it, crispy and delicious with tangy stuff called  _ sauce _ to dip it in.

Belly full, Minseok can’t wait to get back to their den. There’s nothing like a long grooming session after a big meal, and Minseok is pleased at the thought of smelling even more like his denmate. 

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ


	3. Chapter 3

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

As soon as they get back to the hotel room, Minseok starts pulling off his clothes.

“Why are you undressing?” Jongdae asks, hastily turning his back. 

“You said we would take baths,” Minseok reminds him, coming over to tug Jongdae’s jacket off his shoulders. “We both smell like strangers. Let’s smell like each other.” He eyes the buttons down the front of Jongdae’s shirt with a curled lip, then extends a claw from the tip of his index finger.

“Okay, okay, don’t ruin my clothes,” Jongdae grumbles, wondering why the fuck he had said he’d shampoo the hybrid. He’d obviously forgotten that bathing is done in the nude and that Minseok has the body of a spotted god. This is going to be very, very awkward.

But he can do this. He has maintained his composure in far more trying situations, right? Surely helping a handsome hybrid bathe is less stressful than finding an actionable lie in some rich, entitled bastard’s testimony. And Jongdae’s been to bathhouses before. This is exactly the same—two bros just scrubbing each other’s backs. No big deal. No big deal at all. 

Jongdae keeps his boxers on while he turns on the faucet in the tub, studiously not looking at the naked hybrid crouching beside him to feel the temperature of the water.

“I like that it’s warm,” Minseok comments. “Water in my cage was always cold.”

Jongdae nods. “You can turn these dials until it’s a temperature you like.”

He smiles as Minseok fiddles with the taps, adding a generous dose of the hybrid-friendly body soap to the tub. As he’d hoped, it bubbles up nicely beneath the faucet, sending gentle whiffs of lavender and mint into the air.

Minseok makes an adorable sound of delight at the bubbles, reaching out his hand to pat at them much like a curious kitten might. Jongdae uses the hybrid’s distraction as a chance to slip out of his boxers and into the tub where the foam will hide the worst of his problems.

It sort of works. As soon as Minseok realizes Jongdae is in the water he clambers in, too, and all but sits in Jongdae’s lap. The laughing hybrid scoops up a double handful of bubbles only to turn and deposit them on top of Jongdae’s head. Then he carefully arranges them into… something before collapsing back into the tub with a fit of giggles.

Jongdae slowly turns his head toward the mirror, grinning at the two pointy bubble-ears sculpted on top of his head.

“Am I cute now?” he asks.

“Yes!” Minseok crows. “But you were cute before. You are very handsome even if you have round human ears.”

“Er, thanks.” Jongdae hopes his blush can be blamed on the warmth of the water. He reaches over to turn off the tap, leaving only the sounds of sloshing water and gently popping bubbles. 

“Am  _ I _ cute?” Minseok asks, voice soft but still distinct against the sudden quiet.

Jongdae gapes at him. The hybrid’s ears are folded and his eyes are downcast, lower lip caught between his teeth. He looks bashful for the first time in their entire acquaintance and it twists something hard in Jongdae’s heart. Minseok had been created to be beautiful, but evidently no one had ever told him that. 

“Min, of course you are. You’re gorgeous. Really handsome. And not just because you have pointy lynx ears, although they are really striking. And your tail, and your spots—why would you doubt your looks? You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

Minseok’s lower lip tries to creep into a smile even though it’s still pinned between the hybrid’s teeth. His cheeks are flushed as he raises his eyes to meet Jongdae’s.

“Really?”

Jongdae nods emphatically.

“I like your spots, too. And your face and your body.” Minseok’s eyes are bright again, his smile bold. “My denmate is very handsome.”

The bathwater suddenly feels tepid against Jongdae’s overheated skin. He laughs awkwardly, scooping up some bubbles and blowing them at the snowlynx to distract them both. Minseok’s ears angle to the sides and his eyes widen as he bats the bubbles out of the air. 

This time, Jongdae’s laugh is spontaneous and happy. “I’d tease you for being such a cat but you’re willingly covered in water at the moment.”

“Do cats not like water?”

“Tigers do. And leopards, I think? Not sure about snow leopards or lynx. But domestic cats—which you very much are  _ not— _ generally avoid getting wet.”

“Being wet in my cage wasn’t usually fun,” Minseok says. “But I like this bath much better than the shower at the shelter. Rub shampoo on me?”

“Of course.” 

Minseok purrs loudly as Jongdae works shampoo into his hair and the fur of his tail, rubbing it carefully over the backs of his ears without getting any water or soap down inside. He pins his ears flat when Jongdae carefully rinses the shampoo off his head, then they spring up again, flinging droplets from the ends of the long black tufts _. _

Then it’s Minseok’s turn to rub shampoo all over Jongdae’s head, tickling his human ears repeatedly and laughing when Jongdae whines in protest. Minseok rinses Jongdae just as carefully, then pouts at the suggestion they get out of the tub and dry off.

“We can wear our matching pajamas,” Jongdae coaxes.

This earns him the cutest expression of excitement, all round eyes and O-shaped mouth. Then Minseok launches from the tub and shakes himself off, giving Jongdae a heart-stopping show while flinging water everywhere. The snowlynx bounds out of the bathroom toward the shopping bags on the sofa, still-damp tail waving high with his enthusiasm.

Jongdae has to run a little cold water over his lap before he can follow after.

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

It’s so nice to fall asleep snuggled with his denmate, and so nice to wake up beneath the comfortable weight of Dae’s arm, feeling the human’s breath slow and steady against the nape of his neck.

He’s less happy when Dae’s tablet starts making annoying noises. Judging from the groans the human makes in response before rolling over, reaching for the nightstand, and fumbling for the device, Dae isn’t happy about it either. He grumbles at the tablet, sliding his fingers to change what’s on the screen, then sets the tablet down and collapses back against the pillows with a sigh.

Minseok can’t help but chuckle at how annoyed his denmate currently is, especially given how bright and cheerful he usually is. The sound draws Dae’s eyes to Minseok, though very little of the rest of him moves.

“Oh, no,” Dae whines. “You’re a morning person, aren’t you?”

“I like mornings,” Minseok agrees. “Everything is fresh and new.” When Dae only groans as if he might be dying, Minseok laughs and adds, “Except for you.”

“Hey, I am plenty fresh,” Dae grumbles, looking anything but. He’s pouting and his hair is sticking up everywhere again. He looks like an unhappy kit.

Chuckling softly, Minseok leans over to groom his hair back into place. Dae hums contentedly, angling his head to make it easier for Minseok to work.

“Junmyeon—You remember him? The US Head Prosecutor? He wears suits like I do but he prefers bowties in bright colors?”

“The muscular one?”

Dae snorts. “I am not telling him you called him that, he would be way too flattered and I’m annoyed with all of you morning people right now. Anyway, he sent a message saying the social worker from Korea has arrived. It’s another one of our old college buddies—he’s easy to talk to. They’ve finished sorting through the breeding records, so the social workers from each country will talk to everyone, see if family members want to be reunited.”

“My mother?” Minseok’s heart kicks.

Dae looks up at him with sad eyes. “I’m so sorry, Min. They… well. The records indicate she was ‘retired.’ We’re not sure what they meant by that, but there aren’t any sale records—”

“What about my siblings?”

“They were all either lynx or snow leopard—you were the only mix your mother carried to term. So they were sold, and hybrid welfare groups will be going through those records to make sure they’re in good homes. You do have a half-brother that they kept—”

“Zitao.” 

“The snow tipard? They have him listed as ‘Dollhouse Decocats Stars and Stripes Forever’ but I am happy to note down his proper name. He didn’t introduce himself during his interview, but this will make his paperwork more complete.” Dae reaches for the tablet again with a yawn. He pokes away at it while Minseok finishes grooming him, purring softly more to comfort himself rather than as an expression of contentment.

“I’m glad you met Zitao. You may be happy to know Junmyeon and his husband Yixing are applying to sponsor him—having his given name will help with that. Yixing is Chinese so he’ll be able to talk to Zitao better than I can, and hopefully Zitao will be more willing to talk with him, too.”

There’s another moment of near-inaudible purring. Minseok lets himself lick Dae’s hair a few extra times, then curls as close to his denmate as possible before he asks the question he really doesn’t want the answer to.

“What about my… my young? Did they make any snowlynx kits from me?”

“You have surprisingly few offspring for how long you were there and how often they, er, collected from you.”

“I tried to empty myself. But they always got at least a little.”

Dae’s breath pauses for a moment before his chest resumes rising and falling beneath Minseok’s cheek. “Oh. That’s… Wow. Good for you. I mean, it sucks that you had to endure being repeatedly violated, that’s not what I meant. But I’m impressed that you’d think of that. And keep doing it for fifteen years.”

“Is that how long I was alone?”

Minseok can feel Dae nod. “You’re twenty-six, Min. Your oldest daughter is thirteen, a lynx hybrid, sold seven years ago. And your son is eight. He’s a white lion, sold two years ago. And your youngest daughter is four—she’s the only snowlynx kit they managed to get from you. She and her mother—a snow leopard—were among those rescued from Dollhouse.”

The hair on the back of Minseok’s neck stands up and his tail puffs in agitation, thrashing beneath the blanket. “Three? I have three—and one is here? I can see her? And her mother?”

Dae gives him a wry smile. “The mother doesn’t want to see you. You’re a stranger to her, and she’s traumatized. She’s only twenty herself, Min.”

Minseok’s not sure what expression he’s wearing but it makes Dae pull him close and stroke his hair.

“But she said of course you could see your daughter. She’s also of Korean descent, luckily. So the two of them will be heading back to Korea eventually, too. So you’ll be able to visit your little girl then.”

“I can’t see her now?”

“Sorry, Min. The women and children are being handled very delicately. Many of them have chosen not to see anyone outside of legal personnel, trying to help their children adjust to things like clothes and eating at a table and so on. Routine is important for children, and suddenly meeting the father you’ve never seen isn’t very routine.”

Minseok’s ears droop but Dae’s gentle fingers are running over them comfortingly. “I do have a few pictures of her that the mother agreed you be allowed to see. And she said to tell you her name is Sohee and she’s very bright.” 

The fingers stop running through his hair to tap at the tablet instead. Then the screen shows him a pale-eyed little girl with silvery hair and black-tufted ears that match Minseok’s own. Her face may as well be Minseok’s own, too—he can recognize his pointed chin, wide eyes, and full lips reflected in his daughter.

She looks terrified, and her cheeks are streaked with tears.

“Hey—hey! She’s fine, Min, no need to growl like that. Here, look.” 

Dae swipes at the screen as Minseok tries to stifle his snarl. As alarming as it was for him to wake up in the middle of the night to strange humans with bright lights and noisy dogs, it must have been much scarier for the young.  _ His _ young.

But when Dae moves his hand away from the screen again it’s showing two images side by side—one of the kit cuddled securely against a woman whose face has been smudged out, looking more exhausted than scared. And in the other, a feminine hand is wrapped around the little girl’s in an effort to help her spoon something into her laughing mouth without getting any more of whatever it is all over her clothes. 

Minseok’s residual growls die away as he stares at the way his daughter’s eyes curve when she smiles. “Sohee,” he murmurs, hovering his fingers over the screen.

He’s surprised but not surprised at the depth of his protective urges for this child he doesn’t know, who was created without consent from mother or father but still seems well cared for, still knows laughter just like he had when he’d been growing up with his own mother.

“I am glad she is loved,” Minseok says. “Tell her mother… that I’m sorry my young was forced on her, but that I’m not sorry Sohee exists. She’s precious to me even without meeting her. And thank her for taking such good care of our young. I would love to meet Sohee when we live in Korea.”

“I’ll send a message to their social worker,” Dae says, tapping at the screen again. “And speaking of social workers, you should talk to one.”

“Why?”

“Well, because you’ve had a rough time and while I’m your guy if you need a bad guy put in jail, Baekhyun’s the one that’s good at helping people rebuild their lives. You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to, but he’s going to be at the men’s shelter all day today translating the family tree results for the Korean-speaking guys there. I have some boring lawyer stuff to do at the prosecutor’s office, so you can either hang out here, come with me to sit in a stuffy office, or I can drop you off at the shelter for a few hours and you can chat with Baekhyun, ask him any questions about anything at all—no matter how embarrassing, he won’t make you feel weird, okay? He loves to help people.”

Minseok considers. He doesn’t want to be alone anymore if he doesn’t have to be, so staying at the room isn’t appealing. Neither is talking to a stranger, but at least this stranger speaks his language. And— 

“Did you say this Baekhyun is your friend?”

“Yeah, we’ve known each other for almost ten years.”

Minseok smiles. “I do have some questions,” he says. “I will go and talk to your social friend.”

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

Getting Minseok ready to leave the hotel takes much longer than Jongdae anticipates. The former captive has no concept of schedule or deadline, no concept of hours although he understands days, months, years. He’d told Jongdae that his mother had kept a calendar, had taught him the names of the months and the days of the week, but when he’d been moved to his solitary cage he’d lost track of the passing months and years, any marking system he’d had being all too temporary.

He’d always known what day it was, though, because he’d evidently always been counting down to the next visit of the collectors so he could “empty himself” prior to their visit. What a way to live—it makes Jongdae shudder to think of it.

It’s just one more way Minseok proved his determination to control his own life to the degree he could, and it’s a jarring reminder for Jongdae not to underestimate the hybrid’s agency, not to believe him vulnerable simply due to inexperience. Taking advantage of the snowlynx would not be easy, and it’s a bit insulting for Jongdae to feel so reluctant to leave him alone for the day. He’s a grown man and will be in a safe building, not wandering the street.

Minseok wanders the hotel room, though, renewing his rubbed scent markings, making the cutest faces as he tries some jerky (teriyaki was devoured, jalapeño was scowled at) and gnaws on a carrot. Then he deliberates over what they should wear, growling a little when Jongdae says he has to wear his professional suit instead of matching casualwear. Jongdae placates the hybrid by matching his blue button-down to Minseok’s blue sweatsuit, then letting the hybrid rub scents with him until he’s in a happier mood.

Finally Jongdae manages to get them out the door and into the rental car where Minseok huddles low in his seat as always, ears flat as he peeks cautiously at the world gliding past the windows. It’s adorable but Jongdae forces himself to ignore the self-protective behavior, lecturing himself that he’d find being in a vehicle entirely strange, too, if he hadn’t ever done so—hadn’t even known such a thing was possible—until he’d been a quarter-century old.

And he doesn’t complain when Minseok all but insists Jongdae come inside with him, suddenly wary of being left in the place he’d previously lived in for days. He just holds the hybrid’s hand and escorts him into the building, murmuring gentle reassurances as he coaxes Minseok toward the common room.

“I’ll only be gone a couple hours—I’ll be back before the sun goes down.”

Minseok nods, but the hybrid’s ears and the grip of his hand reveal his discontent. 

That grip only gets tighter when they round the corner to see Baekhyun sitting on the sofa with the tallest of the Dollhouse hybrids, a broad-shouldered white liger listed as Dollhouse Decocats Napoleon Dy-no-mite. He’s wearing the standard-issue white sweatpants but no shirt, revealing the bold black stripes over his muscular torso. His striped, tufted tail is twitching in agitation as he flattens rounded ears and tosses his head, streaked hair falling in a mane past his bare shoulders. 

Blinking in astonishment, Jongdae can’t help but grin. This particular hybrid was one of the angriest and most uncooperative, and Jongdae had to attempt to interview the snarling guy from behind safety glass. He hadn’t even been sure which, if any, language he spoke, but evidently Super Social Worker Byun Baekhyun had managed to calm the liger down enough to actually communicate with him.

The liger’s nostrils flare and he turns his head to rumble at them, one sky-blue eye obscured by his variegated fringe. Minseok rumbles back, stepping forward to slip his shoulder between Jongdae and the liger, eying the much bigger guy with his puffed tail held stiffly behind him.

“Jongdae!” Baekhyun cheers, then turns a more serious face back to the hybrid beside him. “I’ll print out the photos, okay? Then you can look at them whenever you want.”

The liger nods without taking his eyes off of Minseok. Just as Jongdae’s starting to worry about an actual fight, the liger closes his eyes briefly. When Minseok does the same, tail falling against his legs, Baekhyun pats the liger’s knee and stands up, leaving the hybrid staring down at a tablet.

Baekhyun bounces over to Jongdae and his wary denmate. “It’s so good to see you,” he gushes.

Jongdae feels a weight lift from his shoulders. He melts into his friend’s hug of greeting—rather, he does so as well as he can with a softly-growling snowlynx still squeezing one hand uncomfortably. Baekhyun must hear it, too, because he releases Jongdae quickly in favor of turning his smile toward the snowlynx.

“You must be Minseok,” he greets, offering a hand that Minseok merely regards with suspicious eyes.

“How do you know my name?”

“Ah, I read your file once I learned my friend was sponsoring a hybrid. I’m Baekhyun, and it’s really nice to meet you.”

Minseok seems to disagree, tail flicking behind him.

“Baek, I have to go do boring lawyer things so Min decided he’d like to come hang out here rather than sit around the hotel room. He said he has some questions for a social worker.” 

This last bit he tacks on for Minseok’s benefit, trying to remind the hybrid that he’d wanted to meet his denmate’s “social friend.”

As he’d hoped, the tufted triangles of Minseok’s ears rise from their hiding place in the hybrid’s silvery hair.

“Oh,” Minseok says, relaxing his grip on Jongdae’s hand. “Yes. I have questions. About humans.” Now his narrowed eyes are directed at Jongdae. 

Jongdae sends a vaguely alarmed look to his old friend but Baekhyun only smiles that disarming boxy smile.

“I will try to have answers about humans,” he says. “Let me talk to Jongdae for a minute as I go pick up this gentleman’s printouts, then my round human ears are all yours.”

“I do not want your round human ears,” Minseok says, nose wrinkling. “Mine are much better. Yours don’t even move—humans must be easy to sneak up on.” 

Baekhyun laughs. “We probably are. Feel free to help yourself to some candy while we’re gone—when I heard they’d only fed you petfood, I brought all the candy for you guys to try. Everyone deserves such simple pleasures!”

Any further concerns Jongdae has dissolve as Minseok’s brows go up in interest. He turns back to rub his cheekbones against Jongdae’s and slide his face along each shoulder. Then he trots over to the giant pile of candy spilled onto the common room table, tail held high with interest.

Jongdae winces at Baekhyun’s widened eyes, practically dragging his old pal out of the common room and away from sensitive hybrid ears.

“It’s not like that, don’t look at me with those eyes. He’s been alone for a long time, he’s just clingy and determined to show me how to be a proper denmate.”

“Jongdae, he just stared down a hybrid twice his size in your defense, then scent-marked you in a deliberate show of ownership,” Baekhyun laughs. “I’d venture you’re on the fast track to being mated rather than mere denmates.”

Jongdae feels his cheeks heat. “He’s just thrilled to have a companion,” he dismisses. “Everything’s new to him—he’s attached to me because I’m his constant right now, right? He’s brave and adaptable, he’ll integrate quickly, especially once we’re in a country with a language he understands.”

Baekhyun snorts. “You just don’t want people to judge you for going all kemonomimi.”

“I don’t want  _ him  _ to judge me for thinking inappropriate things—he said he’d break my arm if I tried to take advantage of him.”

“Oh, whatever. His body language screams ‘possessive,’ Dae. If anyone’s taking advantage of anyone, it’s Minseok.”

Jongdae rolls his eyes. “He’s not even gay. He was very interested in his kids—I’m sure he wants more of them, by choice, with some sweet little lady hybrid he can groom all day long.”

Baekhyun slugs him, smiling at Jongdae’s yelp. “Just because it’s all-gay-all-the-time for your bi-erasing ass doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t like both.”

He gathers up the stack of photographs from the printer. “I don’t argue with your lawyerly conclusions, Dae, so trust my professional opinion when I tell you Minseok wants to be more than denmates. You know I’m the last guy to judge you for getting with a hybrid.”

Jongdae’s scowl is erased by the thought of Baekhyun’s own sweet little lady hybrid, a fennec whose radar ears seem to enable her to suss out all of her mate’s shenanigans.

“How is Taeyeon?” he asks with a smile.

“Excited,” Baek answers with his own rectangular grin. “She wants me to bring home someone who wants help raising her kids, since we can’t have any of our own.”

Jongdae nods. “They are used to living with another mother and her offspring, so there are probably plenty who would be overwhelmed handling multiple children on their own. And since Tae’s a hybrid, they’re more likely to trust her than your male human ass.”

“Absolutely. She’d be here herself except the paperwork for hybrid international travel is ridiculous.” Baekhyun lifts the pages in his hands. “Speaking of, I’d better get these to Sehun. Then I can find out what exactly Minseok’s ‘questions about humans’ are. Too bad for you I adhere to client confidentiality ethics.”

Jongdae resists the urge to whack his head against the nearest wall as Baek cackles his way out of the room.

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

“If your ears don’t move, you are blind in the dark, you can barely smell anything at all, and you don’t have claws, how are humans in charge of us when we are not trapped in cages?” Minseok asks, frowning in disappointment at his third piece of candy. None of them taste like much of anything, so he’s not sure why this human thinks so highly of this snack.

“It is more than a little unfair, isn’t it? But humans learned to dominate creatures more dangerous than themselves a long time ago. They use manufactured weapons rather than natural ones—guns, knives—”

“Drugs,” Minseok growls softly.

Baekhyun nods. “Those, too. And humans make the laws—the rules that say who is allowed to do what—and they make them so that their own interests are protected. So even if physically, hybrids are superior, those laws keep them from having any power.”

“Dae will change those laws.”

“He’s trying very hard,” Baekhyun agrees. “Will you help him by testifying against Dollhouse?”

Minseok can’t help but snarl. “They will not touch my testes. They have already stolen three young from me.”

“Ah, no—we would never ask you to submit to anything like that again. And we’re trying to reunite everyone with their families, so hopefully you’ll get to meet all your kiddos eventually. I was asking if you’ll tell everyone in a courtroom what was done to you?”

“I will tell all of the nice humans what the collectors did. They are bad and should go to the bad human cage.”

Baekhyun grins at him, showing off his dull human teeth proudly as if they were as sharp as a hybrid’s. “Good! Jongdae will be pleased.”

“And then we will go in a flying plane to Korea and I will see my smallest young. I will teach her to be fierce and defend herself, to be wary of bad humans that would force her to breed.”

“We have better laws in Korea. I’m not saying no hybrids are ever taken advantage of there, but there are groups dedicated to protecting hybrid rights to things like bodily autonomy—the right to decide who to breed with, if at all.”

Minseok studies this human, his eyes a bit like the barking dogs that had so annoyed him. But the barking dogs had come with the good humans to protect hybrids from the bad ones, and this loud human seems protective, too.

“You will be the human for my young and her mother,” he decides. “You will take her to Korea so I can see her and make sure she grows up safe and strong.”

Baekhyun laughs. “This must be how you got Jongdae to sponsor you so quickly, isn’t it? Just told him he was going to, so he did as instructed, huh?” He leans over the table between them to grab another piece of candy for himself. “And to think he worries about taking advantage of you.”

“He cannot take advantage of me,” Minseok dismisses with a swish of his tail. “I am stronger than he is, even without my claws. Your fancy human laws about who is in charge mean nothing to me. I warned him I would not tolerate any betrayal.”

“Good for you,” Baekhyun says, popping the candy in his mouth. “But since he’s a fancy human lawyer, fancy human laws can be all he thinks about. You might have to remind him that hybrid instincts are just as real as human rules. And a lot of human rules are dumb.”

Minseok snorts. “A lot of hybrid instincts are dumb, too. I cannot eat a dry leaf that blows past my face, but I must try to catch it anyway.”

“Oh, but that’s a good analogy,” Baekhyun says, gesturing with the candy wrapper. “You try to grab the leaf because your animal side wants to make sure it’s not a bird or a butterfly—something that a true cat  _ could _ eat. And some human laws are throwbacks, too, meant to govern animals or children when hybrids are neither. They are still considered property, though, which makes a lot of things tricky.”

Minseok nods, remembering Dae’s rant about ownership. But they are denmates now, and they belong to each other. There is nothing tricky about that. 

He shakes his head when Baekhyun offers the bowl of candy to him again.

“Humans have strange tastes,” he says in response to Baekhyun’s raised brow. “I will wait for Dae to come back. Then we will go eat meat.”

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

Jongdae is glad his per diem is overly generous, because it’s so much fun to feed Minseok all the meat. Today it’s fish, thanks to a local colleague at the prosecutor’s office who tipped him off to the best (only?) sushi restaurant in the poor land-locked city of Bismarck, North Dakota. As such, it’s expensive to cover the cost of the overnight-imported fresh-caught fish. But it’s totally worth it to spend most of the meal trying not to coo at Minseok’s intense excitement.

They sit at the bar where little boat-shaped plates of freshly-prepared sushi float by on a conveyor belt. Minseok is fascinated, sinking into the stool, ears flat, head low between his shoulders, eyes locked on the parade of fish.

“And we just take the ones we want?” he almost whispers, like he’s maybe afraid to scare his meal away.

“One plate at a time,” Jongdae cautions. “But yeah—whichever one you want.”

Minseok slowly stretches an arm toward the line of sushi, hand hovering in the air before darting out to claim a plate of salmon rolls. He lowers his head, nostrils flaring, ears focused to either side like lookouts while he thoroughly inspects his prize.

Then he pops one into his mouth, chewing twice before his jaw freezes and he turns wondrous eyes to Jongdae, tail quivering behind him.

“This is almost as good as steak,” he declares around his mouthful of fish and rice. “My denmate must have some.”

He holds out another roll and Jongdae obediently opens his mouth to receive the hybrid’s offering. “Thank you.”

Minseok nods, swallowing his own roll only to immediately shove another one into his mouth. He pushes the plate with the last remaining roll in front of Jongdae, training his eyes on the contents of the conveyor belt once again.

“Your human nose is pitiful, but I will hunt well for my denmate. We will eat only the freshest, yummiest fishes.”

“I am very lucky to have such a caring denmate,” Jongdae says, biting the inside of his cheek.

“You really are,” Minseok agrees, hovering his hand over the passing plates once again, claws slightly emerged.

His nose must really be aiding the hybrid’s choices because Jongdae is surprised at how nice the sushi he’s presented with is. They run up a massive bill that Jongdae happily lets the US government take care of before returning to their hotel room. 

“Did Baekhyun answer all your human questions?” Jongdae asks when they’re once again dressed in their matching pajamas. 

Minseok scoffs, climbing into bed with the TV remote. “There are always more human questions, Dae. You are needlessly complicated.”

“We are,” Jongdae agrees, crawling to rest beside his denmate. “You can ask me anything, too. I’m not as good at explaining as Baekhyun, but I will do my best.”

Minseok hums, arranging Jongdae to his liking before settling against him, head on Jongdae’s shoulder. He scrolls through the Popular With Hybrids category of the hotel’s streaming entertainment service, letting each trailer autoplay before moving to the next one. 

“Is it really like this for hybrids in Korea? They walk around on the streets by themselves and no humans stop them?”

“Mostly,” Jongdae says. “There are rules about where hybrids are allowed to be unsupervised and where they have to have their human with them. But they have a lot more freedom in big cities in general—there are places in this country, too, where hybrids are pretty common.”

“These hybrids are all denmates, with matching neck jewelry?”

“Er, no. Those are collars. Hybrids are required to wear them in public in some places.”

“Why?”

“For identification, and to prove they have a human.”

“Like the ear tags?” The fluttering of Minseok’s previously-pierced ears makes the tufts tickle against Jongdae’s neck.

“A little, except not permanent or painful.”

“It is still painful to be identified like an animal. We can say who we are like humans, we do not need to wear it.”

“Humans are supposed to carry identification with them, too,” Jongdae explains, grabbing his wallet off the nightstand and showing Minseok his national ID card.

The hybrid examines the plastic rectangle carefully, tilting it to see the holograms catch the light. He holds it up to Jongdae’s face, snorting at the comparison.

“Laugh now—we’ll see if your picture is any better,” Jongdae chuckles, reclaiming the card to store again in his wallet.

“I will have a card like that?”

Jongdae nods. “The one for hybrids is a little different, but in Korea it’s now permissible to carry an ID card instead of wearing a collar. Many hybrids still wear them, though, either because their humans want them to or just as jewelry.”

“They want to match with their human?”

“Humans don’t usually wear collars, but sort of—you could see it as a way for a hybrid to demonstrate they have a human denmate, I suppose.” 

“But we will wear matching collars?”

Jongdae winces. “I’d rather not—collars make me feel like a person might be seen as an animal, even though many hybrids like to wear them of their own free choice.”

Minseok’s ears droop a little and Jongdae can’t stand the thought of disappointing his denmate.

“But we can wear matching earrings,” he offers. “And our ID cards will have the same address to show we belong to each other.”

The long tufts spring upwards again to Jongdae’s relief.

“Yes. We will have matching blue fires in our ears.”

“We will.”

Evidently content with this, Minseok settles back against Jongdae’s shoulder. The trailer for a romantic drama plays, the fox hybrid lead chasing after his rabbit hybrid love interest in the rain before pulling her beneath an overhang to kiss her, both their ears flat and dripping as they passionately embrace. The scene fades to black before displaying the show’s title logo and Minseok lifts his head again.

“You said hybrids do not eat each other.” His tail swishes beneath the blanket.

“They don’t,” Jongdae says. 

“The fox chased his prey and tasted her.”

“He didn’t—they weren’t—he wasn’t going to eat her. They were just kissing,” Jongdae explains. “It’s what people do when they are attracted to each other.”

“No, kissing is this,” Minseok says, turning his head to press his lips against Jongdae’s cheek before he can even blink. “It’s what mothers do to comfort their children.”

“That’s also called kissing, yes,” Jongdae agrees, trying to ignore how the moist patch of skin on his cheek seems to be electrified. “But lovers also kiss. On the mouth, among other places.”

“Lovers?” Minseok asks. “What other places?”

“Um. People who love each other and may want to mate. And they could kiss each other anywhere, really.”

Minseok studies Jongdae for a moment, then hits the button on the remote to replay the trailer. He watches it like a surgeon observes a demonstration of a heart transplant, then looks back at Jongdae again. His ears are pointed one each at Jongdae and the TV and his tail is quivering beneath the blanket. 

Nothing at all good can come of this, and the hybrid proves it a moment later.

“Can I taste your mouth like that?”

“Uh,” Jongdae says. “It’s usually a thing people do if they’re… intimate. In love. Care romantically for each other.”

“Romantical?”

“Yes, romantic. They have soft feelings for each other—they really like each other a lot. They feel very attached. Connected.” Jongdae knows he’s not being a very good dictionary but he can’t think of a better way to explain such an abstract concept.

“They will be mates and produce young?”

“Maybe, but not all mates produce young. Some mates are two males. Or two females. Or just a male and a female who prefer not to have kids, or who plan to adopt.”

“So we cannot kiss this way because we’re not romantic mates?”

_ We cannot kiss this way because I might die.  _ “I mean. We could, if you’re that curious.”  _ No, what are you saying? _ “But, um. I’ve only done that with… people I wanted to be intimate with. So, um. My body might respond in a way you might not appreciate.” 

Minseok looks at him with those inscrutable eyes, then nods. “You cannot control your scent. I will not be offended by your arousal. It is not always how a male chooses to be—I know this well.”

Jongdae tries not to grimace. “Right.”

“So I can taste you?”

Those eyes are literally going to be the death of Jongdae. In about two minutes, when his heart explodes. “Sure.”  _ Kim Jongdae, you are an idiot. _

Minseok lifts himself up on an elbow, eyes locked on Jongdae’s mouth. He leans down to press his parted lips against Jongdae’s, a little awkwardly although entirely unhesitant. Jongdae does his best to respond, tilting his head to make it easier, opening his mouth wider when Minseok’s raspy tongue probes in deeper.

It’s nowhere near the most skillful kiss Jongdae’s ever had, sloppy and tongue-heavy and literally feeling like Minseok’s trying to taste him all the way back to his tonsils. But that doesn’t make it any less exciting—Jongdae’s sure he reeks of arousal even as he wills himself not to pop a boner.

It doesn’t really work.

And Jongdae’s an idiot so he lifts a hand to cradle Minseok’s face, deepens the kiss, licks back into the hybrid’s mouth and Minseok makes a little surprised sort of growly noise and it’s fierce and hot and Jongdae moans in response before he can stop himself.

Minseok pulls away. “You are hurt? My fangs?”

Jongdae shakes his head and tries to inhale sufficient oxygen to operate his thoughts. “No. I’m fine. Sorry. I just got carried away.”

“I have not carried you anywhere.”

“No, I mean. I got too excited. It felt nice. I probably smell gross.”

“You always smell nice. Now you smell nicer.”

“Really?”

Minseok nods. “You smelled even better when you made that noise. Now it’s fading again.”

Jongdae smiles sheepishly. “I’m more in control of myself now.”

The snowlynx tilts his head. “I liked when you smelled not in control. It makes me think about tasting you until you make that noise again.”

“If you do that I’ll get hard. Between my legs. And that will probably be awkward for both of us.”

Minseok sighs. “I am also getting hard even though I have no wish to breed.”

“Yeah,” Jongdae says, as if he also has no wish to satisfy his arousal with the guy next to him. “You probably want a nice feline female to breed with.” He tries for a wingman smile.

“I do not,” Minseok says. “I won’t sire any more young.”

“Ah, that’s understandable,” Jongdae says. “But humans and hybrids can’t produce young together. If you mated with a human woman, you wouldn’t have to worry about that.”

“I would worry anyway,” Minseok says, flopping back against the pillows. “I exist when I should not, and I have already created one impossible offspring. Like my mother, I am glad Sohee exists, but I fear more for her than for my other young. She must become very strong and fierce to protect herself from bad humans and their disgusting plans, and even that might not be enough.”

The truth of the statement punches Jongdae in the gut. “I will do everything I can to help keep Sohee and all the other mixed-species hybrids safe. And to keep that horrible fertility drug from ever being used again.”

“Baekhyun says you work very hard. I am sure you will make lots of human rules. And Baekhyun will take Sohee and her mother to Korea and protect them like a good human dog.”

Jongdae hides a smile. Surely Minseok is referring to the canine units that were present when the Dollhouse compound was raided, but ‘good human dog’ is a rather apt description of his earnest, eager-to-help best friend.

“We’ll do our best,” Jongdae assures his denmate.

“You will. You will work hard in the morning, and I will stay with Baekhyun and ask him more questions. But I will bring my own snacks—his candy is boring.” 

Minseok yawns, curling a raspy pink tongue out of his mouth in a way that makes Jongdae feel a strange compulsion to touch it. And then the snowlynx cuddles closer against him, draping a leg over Jongdae’s thighs.

“But now it is time to sleep with my denmate,” he mumbles, and then the hybrid’s breathing slows, deep and even. It puffs gently against Jongdae’s neck, warm and much more erotic than it should be.

Unable to reach the remote, Jongdae lies awake staring at the hybrid couple on the screen repeatedly making out in the rain.

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ


	4. Chapter 4

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

Minseok has always had vivid dreams, but they’d been fairly repetitive. He’d dream he was flying over his cage, only to see infinite identical cages stretching out in all directions. He’d dream of his mother’s smile, her loving caress, the way she crumpled into the dirt when the sleeping dart hit her. He’d dream of playing tag with his siblings, their laughter, the way the summer sun made their fur shine like metal. 

He’d dream of the pretty leopard woman who’d shared his childhood cage, the way her breasts were always round and full, the way she smelled, so different from his mother or sisters.

But over the last two weeks—ever since he’d met the man—all Minseok has dreamt about has been Dae.

Dae in Minseok’s old cage, nude in the sunlight, warm golden skin covered in a snow leopard’s spots. Or in his lawyer suit, locking the collectors into Minseok’s cage while Minseok himself stands outside. Dae and himself in matching sweatshirts, holding hands and walking through a city full of hybrids, no other humans in sight.

He dreams of tasting Dae, how he’d felt beneath Minseok’s tongue, how he’d made that delicious little noise, moved his own lips and tongue to taste Minseok, too. He dreams of grooming Dae, not just his hair but his face, his chest, licking each of his spots. He dreams of biting Dae, his shoulder, his wrist, his neck, his thigh. 

In Minseok’s dreams, Dae makes that same delicious little noise when Minseok bites him, and he reeks of warm, woody arousal.

Minseok wakes up with his manhood hard more often than not.

But Dae smells so squirmy and alarmed whenever Minseok tries to taste him again, reminding him that it’s something to be done between romantic mates. Even though Minseok insists he understands, Dae always squirms away and reminds him again.

Minseok is starting to get more than a little frustrated. Somehow he needs to convince the human that Minseok would be a good romantic mate. That he might be wary and dumb about a lot of things—including how exactly to get the attention of a “lover”—but that he’s a quick learner. That he’ll practice and work hard to do a good job.

He’s been working hard to be a good testifier, writing down his entire life story, telling it to cameras, answering the same questions over and over for new humans that must not have bothered watching or reading all the things he’d testified already. He hadn’t even growled at the judge in the beginning who’d asked Minseok a bunch of dumb questions through a translator, about truth and lies as if Minseok might not know the difference. 

And he’s been watching a lot of TV at the shelter while Dae works, using Baekhyun’s tablet to tell the TV to play shows in Korean so Minseok can mostly understand. He pelts Baekhyun with questions about the bits he doesn’t understand whenever the social human isn’t meeting with another hybrid. A lot of the things the hybrids in the dramas do for each other—provide food, grooming, scent marking, and so on—Minseok already does with his chosen mate. Except that Dae is a human and therefore can’t smell Minseok’s interest, so nothing changes.

So Minseok watches dramas with humans, even though all the things they do in them are stupid. They give each other that tasteless candy or big bunches of plants, not even pretty plants but boring leafy ones that are dull, dark colors. And even if Minseok wanted to, he doesn’t know where to get these ugly plants. He’s sure Dae would take him to get some, but that rather defeats the purpose.

“You’re very twitchy-tailed this morning, Min,” Dae observes during breakfast. “Do you not like these sausages?”

“They’re fine,” Minseok huffs. “I am just… restless.”

Dae’s brows lift. “Oh? Well, it’s supposed to be warmer today—do you want to go to the park?”

“Park? Like rows of cars?” He’s learning so many new vocabularies every day but it seems like he will never know all of them.

The human smiles, smelling cozy and woody and affectionate. “A different kind of park. This is a place outside with grass and trees where people can run around.”

Minseok must still look a little puzzled, because Dae laughs and playfully tugs at Minseok’s sleeve. 

“C’mon, finish eating and we’ll go play.”

The human’s smile always seems to jump from his face onto Minseok’s. “Yes. We will go play at the park.”

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

Jongdae is relieved that a trip to the park seems to have pulled Minseok out of the increasingly-grumpy mood he’d been falling into over the last several days. And he feels more than a little guilty for not trying to get the previously-caged hybrid out into some open space sooner, even though the weather had been poor and his legal responsibilities are many. He texts Junmyeon that he’ll be in late today or not at all, and instead of the grudging acceptance he’d been expecting, Myeon sends back a  _ good, you needed a day off. _

As soon as they get out of the car Minseok is bouncing, tail high, ear tufts alert. “Dae, there are animals! Birds in the big puddle—Can they fly or only swim? And what is that little thing on the end of that rope—is it wearing a sweater? There are animals that wear sweaters, Dae?”

Grinning wide at Minseok’s wonderment, Jongdae makes a mental note to take him to a zoo. He has a sudden image of the snowlynx losing his mind in the underwater tunnel at the big aquarium in Seoul and his chest squeezes with a flood of fondness. There’s so much Minseok deserves to experience—would he like rollercoasters? A ferris wheel? Would the lunar new year fireworks excite or unsettle him? Would he enjoy looking down at the city from the top of Namsan tower?

Jongdae can’t wait to find out. 

“Those birds are called ducks, Min. They can fly when they need to, but they spend most of their time floating on the water like that. And the animal in the sweater is a dog—I told you people like to keep them as pets, not just use them for police work.”

“That is not a dog.” Minseok narrows his eyes at Jongdae, then at the chihuahua prancing along in a baby-blue knitted onesie. “It is nothing like the ones who came in the middle of the night.”

“It  _ is  _ a dog,” Jongdae laughs. “There are lots of different kinds!”

As if to prove itself, the chihuahua starts yapping at the ducks who remain unperturbed in the center of the pond. Minseok’s eyebrows go up at the tiny creature’s attempts to intimidate birds almost as big as itself, then he gives Jongdae a sheepish smile.

“Okay, it is a dog. But small and stupid, not even worth eating.”

“Probably not,” Jongdae agrees, taking Minseok’s hand and leading him over to the small concession kiosk. “But we can eat a food named after a dog, even though it’s mostly made of cow and pig.”

“Steak?”

“Not quite. It’s more like a sausage.” 

Jongdae orders a pair of hotdogs, ignoring the proprietor’s alarmed glances at Minseok. If people interact with him one-on-one, the snowlynx always crushes all their preconceived notions to dust without the need for Jongdae to enter Defense Lawyer mode.

So when Jongdae translates the total price into Korean for Minseok and the hybrid carefully counts out the appropriate dollars and change from Jongdae’s wallet, he’s unsurprised that the proprietor watches with interest. And no human with a heart could fail to return Minseok’s smile as he hands over the cash and accepts the pair of hotdogs with a cheerful  _ thank you, _ one of the handful of English words he’s picked up.

Minseok is learning so much so quickly, it never fails to amaze Jongdae how naturally he adapts to new things after so long in an unchanging environment. He’d even asked Baekhyun about it, afraid of overwhelming the hybrid with too many new things at once.

“His body may have been in that cage for 26 years, but his spirit never was,” Baekhyun had said. “His mother raised her children to understand their living situation as abnormal, encouraged their curiosity, taught them to think. She prepared them well to accept a more normal life.”

It makes Jongdae determined to find out what happened to her. To learn her name, her family, and memorialize her properly. She deserves to be remembered and honored as the heroic soul she was. By raising her son so well, she’d equipped him to be an accurate witness, one able to provide his testimony in his own writing, to recount his experiences with precision and emotion in just the sort of way that’ll have a jury weeping for him and his family. 

Unfortunately, Jongdae’s not at all sure he’ll be able to get Minseok’s testimony admitted to a US court. United States legal code clearly defines a  _ person _ as “a member of the species  _ Homo sapiens” _ and only persons have any sort of agency under the law. Whatever else a hybrid is or isn’t, no one can argue that they’re human.

Despite the cheeky designation used by traffickers, hybrids don’t have an official binomial classification like all other known natural creatures. They’re not truly “hybrids” in the zoological sense of two organisms blended together relatively evenly, like a mule or an actual liger. In some ways, they’re closer to chimaeras, with animal parts “grafted” onto a human base. Except that unlike genetic chimeras that have separate DNA in the different parts, hybrids have a single set of genetic code, one with a structure entirely new to life—on this planet, anyway. 

So they’re not a race, a breed or a cultivar of  _ Homo sapiens. _ Whatever else scientists may argue about—like whether hybrids should be in the  _ Homo _ genus at all—they all at least agree on that. Jongdae can’t argue in court that Minseok’s a human, and the United States federal law is explicit—not human, not a person. Not human, no human rights. Not a person, not a victim, and—as the US constitution specifically prohibits slavery—not a person, not a slave. 

But without any settled taxonomy in the great tree of life, the argument about  _ what _ hybrids are (and therefore what rights they should have) still rages. In some countries, they’re property, equivalent to chattel slavery—except that legally, slaves have always been seen as human, just humans with zero rights. Some places label them as animals, but considered intelligent and social, like chimps or dolphins, and therefore deserving of more rights than a cow or a dog. In some nations they’re granted partial citizenship, and in others, they’re outright banned, either as unnatural in the eyes of a higher power or merely as an administrative headache the government doesn’t want to deal with.

The United States federal government has essentially decided not to decide, leaving it up to each state to make their own legislation on the matter. Oregon has granted them limited citizenship but strictly regulates new hybrids entering the state either through breeding or import. California has granted hybrids the same rights they grant animals, but their legislation regarding animals is some of the most protective in the US. In Alabama they’re subject to mandatory forced sterilization, with penalties of up to a decade in jail per un-altered hybrid housed on a person’s property. Most states treat them as a special class of animals, though none but North Dakota consider them livestock.

It’s frustrating, because aside from abducting young hybrid women from Asian countries, the Dollhouse proprietors really haven’t broken any state laws. No legal victims, no crime in the eyes of the law. And Dollhouse, by marketing their “products” as “Decocats,” decorative pets, has sidestepped any accusations of promoting “bestiality” by selling their “creations” to those who might sexually abuse hybrids under their control, something that happens more often than not. 

Call him jaded, but Jongdae generally assumes most people who would purchase a six-year-old child aren’t doing it for altruistic or decorative purposes. If they aren’t sexually abused, they’re used as unpaid labor, invisible people suffering for human gain. Sure, some are probably purchased as companions for children or as child substitutes. He knows that in some circles in Gangnam, hybrid children are considered the perfect fashion accessory by bored young rich girls who like to dress them up and parade them around. But hybrids were created to be exploited, after all, and Jongdae’s seen it all in his career. Any time sentient beings change hands in return for payment of any kind, abuse is likely. It burns so much that Jongdae’s not able to bring charges against any of that.

The best lead Jongdae has right now under US law is recommending prosecution under the federal Animal Care Act, claiming that hybrids are “non-human primates.” The USDA has regulations for apes kept in zoos or used as research subjects, and with the administration of these proprietary, unregulated drugs, he can make a pretty solid case that, whatever else was happening, they were being experimented on. For that to work, though, he must get expert witnesses to agree that hybrids are, in fact, primates, and this isn’t something Jongdae’s sure he can do.

So he’s also going to investigate litigation based on the development and utilization of said experimental drugs, hoping some of the compounds used are illegal in the US and/or that Dollhouse broke the regulations for drug manufacturing.

And he’s absolutely going to prosecute them himself for the original hybrid abductions. He’ll recommend that China and Japan do the same and that they “reclaim” the descendents of the hybrids trafficked from their country. If he can’t put the Dollhouse proprietors in jail, he can at least put them out of business.

It will be an absolute pain to track down the originally-trafficked hybrids’ legal owners—”sponsorship” is a relatively recent concept—especially if they’ve passed away or emigrated. But Jongdae will at least try to find them before prosecuting in the name of the ROK itself—it galls him enough to have to prosecute these sickos for a crime against the humans who’re responsible for the hybrids rather than on behalf of the hybrids themselves.

He’s heartened slightly by the fact that the US Congress has called an emergency session to examine a bill that would change the wording of all laws written before the date of effect to read ‘human person’ and subsequently declaring hybrids to be ‘non-human persons’ with certain rights, though much debate is raging on what those rights should be. There are oppositions to it on the grounds of re-wording all the existing laws, on the debate of whether hybrids have souls, whether they’re even ‘sentient’ in the first place, and plain old desire for a group of exploitable beings enough like humans to be fuckable but unable to legally defend themselves from exploitation. He’s sickened but not terribly surprised by the last position, considering humanity’s penchant for treating anyone sufficiently different from themselves like shit—history is full of genocide, slavery, and dehumanization of fellow  _ Homo sapiens, _ after all. 

And due to bans on  _ ex post facto _ laws—creating new laws in order to prosecute acts that weren’t forbidden at the time they occurred—any upgrades in hybrid rights won’t be anything Jongdae can use to prosecute Dollhouse for their abuses, anyway. The best they can do is prevent, or at least criminalize, future abuse. He knows that Congress granting hybrids equal rights with humans is too much to hope for—no country on Earth has yet granted hybrids true equality—but he hopes they’ll at least be granted more rights than animals. 

In his own country, hybrids are legally considered “demihumans” and given the same rights as human children, including things like age of consent, right to education, and protection from overwork. This is both better than most places and still incredibly limiting—they can’t sign for themselves on any legal document or hold finances in their own name, can’t own property, vote, or get married. They can, however, legally protect themselves from abuse even by their own sponsor, can be “unsupervised” in public so long as they carry identification and are old enough to “conduct themselves appropriately,” and can hold jobs (though it’s their sponsor that receives the pay). 

They can even provide proper testimony in court, with the stipulation that their sponsor is the one who assumes liability for any perjury or even any untrue information at all, whether the hybrid believes the information true or not. In contrast, Jongdae can only enter Minseok’s testimony into the American legal system as “documentary evidence” in written or recorded form. It’s admitted as an allowable (in most cases) form of hearsay, meaning that it’s not given as much weight as “direct evidence” contributed by humans.

So for the sake of the Dollhouse case, it would be nice if this Congressional session at least granted hybrids the right of testimony. Even if he can’t file charges in their names, he wants them to at least be able to have their day in court. He wants a media circus, too, because whether or not this case is won or lost in the courts, he wants Dollhouse to lose in the court of public opinion. 

He wants Americans to see what the laws of their country currently allow, and be angry. He wants young people all over the world to see, those that are both soft-hearted and bright-minded, the ones who’ll be making the laws and policies of the future. He wants them to be appalled at the way the Dollhouse hybrids were treated, especially in comparison with how many people treat their pets. 

Hell, even the guy walking the chihuahua is civil enough to give the little thing a sweater in the winter. The Dollhouse hybrids should have been so lucky.

Jongdae feels lucky to be able to witness Minseok’s precious expression of concentration at the condiment station as he applies mustard, ketchup, onions, and pickle relish to equal sections of his hotdog, tongue peeking from the corner of his mouth. And even luckier when he bites into it, ears, tail, and eyebrows rising in unison.

“Good?” Jongdae asks, face pulling into a fond smile.

Scrunching his face and wiggling happily, Minseok nods vigorously. It makes the long black tufts of his ears bounce adorably. The hybrid’s delight in the simple pleasure of a varied diet makes Jongdae all the more determined to punish those heartless enough to deny him even this.

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

The park is really nice. The ducks in the pond are pretty, the little dog with the sweater is ridiculous, the hot dogs are delicious. But what Minseok likes the most about the park is running, particularly chasing after Dae as he dodges between trees, pretending to hide from Minseok even though he’s way too noisy to be good at it.

“You would be eaten right away if you were really being hunted,” Minseok laughs.

“Good thing you’re the only one hunting me.”

Minseok growls at the thought of anyone else hunting his Dae. Dae jumps a little at the sound, and Minseok reaches out to catch him before he falls or gets away. Dae laughs as Minseok pins him against a tree for safekeeping and he looks so appealing, those long lashes and curled up lips, the accelerated beating of his heart, the darker shade of his cheeks, the scent of his excitement. It’s too much to resist so Minseok leans in to taste his panting mouth.

Dae turns his head. “Min,” he huffs, still smiling. “We talked about this.”

Right. Minseok needs to prove himself first. In a dumb human way, because Dae’s nose is cute but ineffective. 

Biting his lower lip, Minseok releases Dae and spins on his heel, looking around the park to see if the dark swirl-leaf plants are around, the ones the drama humans give each other as some sort of mating signal. He doesn’t see any of those, but he does see a bunch of the puffballs his mother had compared him to when young, playing with his name and calling him  _ Mindullaeseok _ after the silvery soft fluff that she said matched his hair and fur.

There are some of them that are still in their bright yellow sunshine shape so Minseok gathers some of those, too, along with the jagged leaves because he’s afraid that maybe it’s the leaves that are the signal and he doesn’t want his Dae to misunderstand him any more.

Dae is watching him with an odd expression on his face, still leaning against the tree. He accepts the bunch of flowers Minseok hands him, brows trying to touch each other over his nose.

“What’s this for?” he asks, looking back and forth between the flowers and Minseok.

“I don’t know,” Minseok admits. “I’m just supposed to give you a bunch of plants, I think. Like the humans in dramas.”

“Ah, like a bouquet? Thank you, Min, that’s very sweet.” Dae smiles, his eyes curving above the silver and yellow puffs. “You know, in English these flowers are called  _ dandelions, _ named after lions’ teeth because of their serrated leaves.”

“I am not a lion,” Minseok asserts. “And my mother said the fluffy ones looked like my fur. They should be called dandelynx.”

Dae freezes. “Oh no, Min. Did you just make a pun?”

“What’s a pun?”

“It’s a way to play with words, changing them a little to try to be funny. Junmyeon loves them and they make me groan every time.”

His voice has gone all whiny and it makes Minseok smile at how cute his human can be. 

“I did not mean to be funny. But if these puns make you react like this, then I will try to make more of them.”

“Noooo,” Dae protests, laughing and running off again, dandelynx clutched in his hand. 

Minseok frowns a little because he’d hoped to be tasting his Dae, but it doesn’t last long because chasing him is fun, too. He chases Dae around for hours, eats more meat on a stick, even pets a few of the dogs being walked through the park. Dogs still aren’t Minseok’s favorite—they’re loud and stinky and try to groom his hands and face with their smooth slimy tongues. But some of them, like Baekhyun, are kind of cute.

Baekhyun is also useful, so Minseok brings his frustrations to the social human. When Dae drops him off at the shelter the next day, Minseok flings himself onto the sofa opposite Baekhyun, ears flat, tail lashing. Baekhyun blinks at him expectantly.

“Hybrids must live with humans.” 

“...Yes? I mean, they’re usually required to have a human sponsor and generally that means they live in the same place—”

“And female humans can mate with hybrids.” Dae had said Minseok could mate with a female human, hadn’t he?

“Yes, though it’s not legally recognized in many places as a marriage—” 

“But male humans do not mate with hybrids?”

“Some do.” Baek reaches for his tablet, poking at it for a second. “This is the woman I call my wife—my mate. Taeyeon’s a fennec hybrid.”

Minseok accepts the offered tablet, gazing down at it sadly. Dae had said sometimes two males or two females would mate, but evidently he was only talking about hybrids with other hybrids. 

“Oh. So male humans do not mate with male hybrids.”

“Again, some do. Is this about Jongdae?”

Minseok jumps guiltily, then reminds himself that this human knows his denmate well. “Dae let me taste his mouth once, but now he always turns away. He says we can’t if we’re not romantic mates, but I gave him dandelynx and he still won’t let me. Is it because I am a hybrid? Or because I am a male?”

Baekhyun shakes his head. “It’s because Jongdae is dumb.”

“My Dae is  _ not _ dumb,” Minseok growls. “He is very smart.”

“He is very smart,” Baekhyun agrees, unwrapping one of his candies on a stick. “But Jongdae is very good at denying himself things he wants if he thinks he shouldn’t have them. It was a useful skill back in college when what he wanted was to go sing karaoke instead of study for tests, but I think it’s doing him more harm than good now that he’s out in the real world.”

Minseok furrows his brow, distressed at so many words he doesn’t understand. “So… Dae doesn’t want to mate with me?”

“Oh, no, I’m sure he does,” Baekhyun says around the candy in his mouth. “He just feels guilty for wanting to because you’re someone he’s trying to help. He doesn’t think it’s fair to want to mate with you, so he pretends he doesn’t.”

This explanation makes even less sense. “Not fair?”

Baekhyun pulls the candy out of his mouth with a pop. “Jongdae wants to save and protect everyone, right? And he’s angry that these people were so cruel to you, especially when it comes to things like forcing you to breed. So he feels bad for wanting to do breeding-like things with you when that’s what he’s working hard to punish those jerks for.”

“But mating is not breeding,” Minseok says with a frown. “We cannot produce young. And he cannot force me to taste him. I  _ want  _ to taste him.”

“Then you’re going to have to tell him that out loud, because he’ll dismiss any other hints,” Baekhyun says, sticking the candy back in his mouth. “We humans can’t smell arousal or fear and most of us want to be respectful and not make any assumptions. Some of us are good at reading body language and some of us are rather clueless. So just say you want to mate with him—he’ll turn bright red and stammer for a while but if you back that up with your actions he’ll eventually get the idea.”

“I will tell him out loud, then I will taste him  _ everywhere,” _ Minseok decides.

Baekhyun makes a squeaky sound and doubles over, coughing violently until the candy flies out of his mouth to bounce across the table. “That’ll definitely make your intentions clear,” he rasps.

Smiling happily now that he has a plan, Minseok sits right up against the window that looks out over the park for cars. Purring gently and occasionally twitching his tail with excitement, Minseok waits for his denmate to return. 

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

“We need to go home and groom each other,” Minseok announces as soon as Jongdae steps into the shelter’s common room. 

“How about dinner first?” Jongdae suggests as the hybrid jumps up from the sofa.

“Yes, I will grill meat for you. Then grooming.”

He practically leaps on Jongdae, grabbing his arm with both hands (and a hint of claws) and all but drags him back to the car. Jongdae barely has time to wave goodbye to a cackling Baekhyun, wondering what his friend finds so funny.

“You seem in a better mood,” he observes, smiling over at the snowlynx at a red light. Minseok’s ears are up, his eyes are bright, and his tail is flicking between his knees.

“Yes,” Minseok agrees, grinning back at him.

Minseok had seemed to enjoy the park yesterday but was downright sullen once they’d gotten home. He’d even gone to sleep before Jongdae, leaving him to review legal briefs at the coffee table and curling up in bed alone. He hadn’t even suggested matching pajamas or anything.

This morning he’d been quiet, polite but withdrawn. Jongdae had offered to stay home with him but Minseok had insisted he needed to talk to Baekhyun. And whatever they’d talked about—a subject that Jongdae is way too curious about for someone who very much respects client privilege and confidentiality—had evidently helped. Or so Jongdae hopes.

“I have a plan,” Minseok states, tail quivering at the words.

Well, if that isn’t ominous as all hell. 

“I hope it’s a fun plan.”

“Me, too.”

Yep, definitely ominous.

Minseok is extra cute at dinner, going out of his way to cook steak perfectly for Jongdae and place it ceremoniously on his plate, arranging it in a little heart shape. He laughs when Jongdae stammers an awkward thank-you, looking across the table at Jongdae with his chin tucked and ice-green eyes wide.

And once they’re back at the hotel, Minseok starts tugging at Jongdae’s clothes.

“Do I smell strange today?” Jongdae asks while shrugging out of his suit jacket, wondering what exactly has Minseok so set on grooming him so urgently.

“You always smell strange after you work. And sometimes you smell like the collectors.”

“Sorry,” Jongdae winces as he rushes to save his buttons. “I have to interview them sometimes.”

“I know,” Minseok dismisses, pushing the shirt over Jongdae’s shoulders. “You work very hard. You are very smart.”

“I try my best.” He laughs and catches the hands fumbling at his belt. “I can undress myself, Min. Are we having a bath? Do you want to start the water?” 

By sending the hybrid off ahead, Jongdae has managed to avoid embarrassing himself as they bathe, something Minseok likes to do at least twice a week. Jongdae would like to say it had become routine by now but he’d be lying—he has to recite legal codes in his head the entire time. 

“We will smell like blueberries,” Minseok declares, stripping off his own clothes and striding for the bathroom, leaving Jongdae with an armful of fleece and eyes closed to avoid ogling Minseok’s muscular ass. 

Jongdae knows Minseok was nude all the time before the compound had been raided but it’s still strange that he shows no body consciousness at all. It’s not the casual confidence of someone who knows he looks good—Minseok still seems all but oblivious to his own charms—but the nonchalance of someone who accepts his own body as normal and natural and nothing to be ashamed of or even think much about at all. Jongdae supposes it’s a healthier attitude than many people have.

Still, he can’t help but be very conscious of his own nudity as he sets the clothes in the laundry bag and goes to join the hygiene-happy hybrid. He always has to force himself not to cover his groin with his hands but that would only draw attention to it and him and his red face and awkwardness. His best chance of not making it weird is to pretend that he doesn’t care. Minseok isn’t going to look at him or anything— 

“Your speckled body is pretty, Dae.”

Jongdae almost falls into the tub but manages to catch himself before he splashes sudsy water everywhere.

“Uh, thanks,” he manages to say, adding a less-awkward smile once he’s seated in the tub, bubbles covering his hips. “I like your spots, too.”

“I hated them, growing up.”

Jongdae lifts his eyes from the bubbles in his lap to study the hybrid across from him. “Really? Why?”

“I did not match my family.”

“Ah. That was probably hard.”

“Yes. But then I was alone and had no one to match. And now I have you, and we barely match at all.”

“Sorry,” Jongdae winces. “I keep meaning to take you jewelry shopping.”

“I would like that, but we do not need it. We belong to each other even though we do not match, don’t we, Dae?”

“Yes, of course.”

“And you think I am gorgeous.”

“Of course you are.”

“And I think you are handsome.”

“Thank you.”

“So we should be romantic mates and taste each other.”

Jongdae is pretty sure he feels his heart stop. It’s shocked into restarting when Minseok launches his nude, slippery body into Jongdae’s lap.

“M-Min!” he sputters. “What—why?  _ Wait!” _ He catches the hybrid’s face in his hands before Minseok leans too close.

“I just told you. Because I like you and you like me.” His ears flicker. “...Right?”

“Of course I like you! But that doesn’t mean we have to be romantic mates. We can just be friends—denmates. ”

“I want to be  _ romantic  _ mates,” Minseok says firmly. “And your social friend says you also want to but you’re dumb at body language so I have to tell you out loud that I want to taste you. I want to taste you  _ everywhere.” _

Jongdae has a brief out-of-body experience wherein his imagination details exactly how it might feel to have that raspy feline tongue run over certain parts of his body. And his soul comes crashing back down when Minseok’s hands slide over his shoulders, fingertips digging into skin with a hint of claw.

“Wait!” Jongdae yelps. “Wait. Please.” And when Minseok’s ears begin to droop above those big ice-green eyes he hastens to add, “I said  _ wait, _ not  _ stop. _ I just want to talk first before we start anything, uh. Romantic.”

Minseok’s ears lift a bit.

“Minseok. You told me that you would break my arm if I touched you. And I’m worried you’re only interested in me because I’m, well, convenient.”

“I am interested because you are handsome and kind. You do not make me feel stupid for not knowing what I haven’t seen or heard before. You listen to me just as you listen to your muscular friend or your social friend—like I am important. As important as a human.”

“Of course you are,” Jongdae murmurs.

“But you did not listen well at our first meeting,” Minseok continues. “I said I would break your arm if you tried to collect from me. But you are not going to stab my testes with needles or shove a mean thing inside my rump to force my body to respond. You will not steal my seed and force it into someone else. No one will be forced to do anything.”

“No forcing,” Jongdae agrees.

“So if you do not want to be romantic mates, we can be denmates who do not taste each other.”

Minseok’s icy-green eyes are intense as he crawls up Jongdae’s body again, tufted ears on full alert like Jongdae’s some prey being tracked by a predator. 

“But I really want to taste you, Dae. Do you want to be romantic mates with me?”

“Yeah,” Jongdae says, unable to take his eyes off Minseok’s growing smile. 

“So I can taste you?”

Jongdae’s on his back in a tub full of water beneath a guy who may be a centimeter or two shorter than he is but who must outweigh him by at least fifteen kilograms, all solid muscle. This guy also has wicked claws that are slightly pricking the skin of Jongdae’s shoulders and razor-sharp fangs currently peeking innocuously from a wicked smile.

_ “If anyone’s taking advantage of anyone, it’s Minseok.” _

Jongdae should know better than to doubt his best friend’s professional opinion. And he really doesn’t want to think about Baekhyun right now.

So he smiles up at the fearsome predator waiting respectfully for permission to devour his chosen prey.

“Yeah, Min. Please, taste me.”

Minseok’s purrs echo from the tile as he claims Jongdae’s mouth.

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

Dae is  _ delicious. _ Tastier than sushi, nicer even than steak. And so are the noises he makes against Minseok’s mouth as he pins him down in the tub, gripping him by the shoulders, settling his torso against Jongdae’s chest as he slides his tongue deeper. 

And Dae licks back into Minseok’s mouth, not just letting Minseok taste but tasting him, too. This proof that his mate wants this makes Minseok’s heart sing and his purrs intensify. The air is thick with the scent of blueberries and arousal—Minseok can even smell his own want whispering around the edges of Dae’s. It’s filling his head and Minseok presses himself closer, splashing water out of the tub as he bends his knees to place one foot on either side of Dae’s narrow hips.

He rolls his hips against the man beneath him, at first unconsciously but then again when it lights his entire body up with heat. Dae is moaning, too, high and long, head tilting so far back Minseok can’t reach to press lips to lips. So Minseok presses his mouth to Dae’s neck instead, sucking a little like he does when they kiss and that makes the human’s moan break into a squeak.

It’s an intriguing reaction so Minseok sucks harder, rewarded by a keen and a whole body thrash that flings more water from the tub. Some instinct makes Minseok growl, cling harder to the body beneath him, graze his fangs against skin and Dae yelps, startling him into releasing the human. Minseok rears back, eyes snapping to Dae’s face to determine if that was a good noise or not.

“‘M fine,” Jongdae assures him. “I liked it—I’m fine. But if you do that it’ll leave a mark, which I usually wouldn’t mind but I have to look professional in the morning and I don’t have any concealer.”

“Concealer?” Minseok asks a little absently, rather enjoying the sight of the human wet and panting beneath him. His to pin down. His to taste.

“Yeah, it’s makeup, which is—agh, Min, your claws.”

Minseok immediately retracts his claws and his fingers from Jongdae’s shoulders. Bright thistlepricks of blood are left behind, blooming against Dae’s heat-darkened skin. He has a sudden urge to lick them.

Horrified, Minseok tries to withdraw to the other end of the tub, ears hiding in his hair, tail wrapping around his middle. “Sorry, Dae. I’m sorry.”

But Dae encircles Minseok with his arms, keeping him in place on the human’s lap. The movement makes the water slosh over Dae’s shoulders, washing the tiny spots of blood away.

“It’s fine, Min—I’m fine.”

“I hurt you,” Minseok protests even as Dae pulls him in again and presses his mouth against Minseok’s neck.

“Not really. Just be careful.”

His lips move against Minseok’s skin as he says this, sending tickles down Minseok’s back. And then he starts licking and sucking and Minseok forgets what he was upset about, ears relaxing out to either side, tail unwinding to quiver beneath the foam. Dae chuckles into the curve of Minseok’s neck as his purring resumes.

“I love it when you purr.”

“I don’t really do it on purpose,” Minseok tries to say, but he’s purring so hard it chops his words into pieces.

Dae laughs, catching Minseok’s face again and pressing a brief kiss to his lips. “You’re adorable,” he informs Minseok, eyes curved and sparkling.

“You said I am gorgeous.”

“That, too,” Dae agrees, but he stops Minseok when he leans down to taste him again. “Hand me the shampoo?”

Minseok furrows his brow.

“I wanna groom my mate.”

Lips tugging into a grin, Minseok leans back enough to grab the requested bottle. Then he sighs contentedly and sinks down against Dae’s chest, tucking his face against the damp skin of his neck as Dae’s fingers work the minty shampoo into his hair and fur. It’s hard not to flutter his ears when Dae scrubs them but he does his best to hold still, distracting himself by grooming Dae’s neck a little.

Dae has helped him wash several times now, but never in this position. Minseok had always been sitting on the bottom of the tub facing away from Dae, but it’s much nicer to rest against his chest and be scrubbed. He keeps his mouth against Dae’s neck even when Dae uses the sprayer to rinse his hair, lifting his head only to flick his ears free of excess water.

Chuckling, Dae starts lathering his tail, another difficult thing to keep completely still. It always tickles a bit, and the way Dae is using both his hands makes Minseok’s entire spine tingle as those hands get closer to the base of his tail.

“Min,” Dae laughs. “Sit back down!”

Cheeks hot, Minseok settles his rump back onto Dae’s thighs. “Sorry,” he murmurs against Dae’s neck. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Cats,” Dae chuckles. 

“What about cats?”

“Your tails are so sensitive.”

“Oh. Yes. They are important.”

“Of course they are.”

The fingers stop scrubbing at Minseok’s fur so he sits up, swishing his tail through the bathwater. “Now I will groom my mate,” he says, smiling down at the human.

Dae smiles back up at him, closing his eyes as Minseok’s fingers get to work. “I’m so lucky to have such a caring mate.”

“You are.”

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

Jongdae is so screwed. He’s an idiot, just as Baek always tells him, and he deserves his fate.

So he just smiles up at his denmate—his new  _ romantic _ mate, as if either of them had any real idea what that means—and lets the most beautiful, brilliant, resilient person he’s ever met rub minty shampoo into his hair.

This is nice. It’s nice despite his irate dick trapped between their bodies. He’s ignoring his dick and Minseok’s dick and Minseok’s cute little ass that he’d shoved up in the air when Jongdae had been rubbing shampoo into the base of his tail. 

He’s reciting the most boring legal codes he can think of in his head and definitely not thinking about how Minseok’s tongue had felt rasping against his neck, how his fingertips had squeezed into the meat of Jongdae’s shoulders, how the prick of his claws had sent a shiver straight to Jongdae’s dick. 

Jongdae is only thinking sweet, cozy, caretaking thoughts, because Minseok is not the spotted sex god he looks like. He’s an inexperienced virgin, and Jongdae’s his first kiss, first human, first everything, and Jongdae is an idiot for not remembering that before he agreed to be the guy’s  _ romantic mate. _

Not that he’d take it back. Just that they have to take it slow. Neither of them have any fucking clue what they’re doing. So they’re definitely not going to be doing any fucking. Jongdae doesn’t have any supplies for that sort of thing, for one. And he has no idea what, if anything, Minseok would want to do. 

Maybe the hybrid is perfectly happy just “tasting him” all the time and grooming him and cuddling close. Maybe he just wants to reenact all the cheesy couple things he sees in all the dramas he watches—he had brought Jongdae “a bunch of plants” because humans in dramas did that. He’d made no attempt to touch Jongdae below the shoulders, had ignored his own arousal. 

The more he thinks about it, the more likely it seems that the hybrid humming happily in his lap—girl-group pop, likely Baekhyun’s influence again—is just looking to forge a connection more meaningful than someone he happens to live with. Belonging to each other is important to Minseok, and all that TV has probably filled his head with new ideas of what that means, especially to humans. Especially since Jongdae had pitched a fit about ownership. 

Couples on dramas talk about belonging to each other, give each other little tokens, dote on each other. Of course Minseok wants that, after being alone for so long. And of course Jongdae’s going to give it to him. 

He’ll take him on all the cliche dates when they get back to Seoul. The aquarium, zoo, Namsan tower, yes, but also to those crazy photo places, to see the cherry blossoms, karaoke, movies, the beach, whatever he wants. He’ll buy him cheesy gifts, couple-everything, the sparkliest earrings, matching shirts, caps, underwear, whatever. No meat restaurant will go unvisited. 

Jongdae will never pressure him for more, never seek to destroy what’s left of Minseok’s innocence, will bask in the glow of his beautiful mate’s pure affection. He can totally live a life of celibacy. It’s fine. Monks do it all the time. 

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ


	5. Chapter 5

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

“We have been romantic mates for two weeks now, but I don’t know what is supposed to be happening,” Minseok complains, settling into his usual spot on the lounge sofa near Baekhyun’s desk. “What’s supposed to happen when two males mate?”

“Pretty much the same thing that happens when anyone else mates,” Baekhyun answers, lips stained blue by today’s candy on a stick. “Or do you mean physically? When you’re aroused together?”

Minseok’s face gets hot and the end of his tail flicks rapidly back and forth. “Yes. If we can’t breed, why does my manhood get hard when I’m tasting him?”

Baekhyun grins, trapping the candy between his teeth so he can reach for his tablet. “Well. It’s not just about breeding—sharing sexual pleasure can be a way for two people to feel very close to each other, connected in a way that’s different from how they relate to anyone else. And there are lots of things you can do to make each other feel good. There’s simple touching, of course—stroking and rubbing and so on. Or you can use your mouth—watch those fangs, of course, but licking and sucking usually feel pretty good.”

Minseok nods, still very interested in tasting his mate  _ everywhere. _ Dae is shy about being tasted anywhere below his shoulders and Minseok doesn’t want to force him. He wants to take good care of his mate, but Dae smells so good and Minseok often wants to rub his face between Dae’s thighs until he’s filled his entire self with his mate’s delicious scent.

“Lots of same-sex couples are content with that type of play, and it’s totally fine if that’s what you’re comfortable with, especially given your history. Jongdae will never push you farther than you want to go—as his best friend I can tell you honestly that if you’re happy, he’s happy. So don’t feel any pressure to do what you dislike—all you have to do is tell him you don’t like it and he’ll stop. But things done with someone you care about because you choose to are often very different from similar things done against your will. So if you find yourself interested in exploring further, many male-male couples also enjoy  _ this  _ type of play.”

Baekhyun turns the tablet so Minseok can see it. Minseok gapes down at the screen, forgetting to blink until his eyes go uncomfortably dry. There are rows of pictures on the screen, images of all types of males—big and little, skinny and muscular, pale and dark, hairy and smooth, hybrid or human—in every possible combination, naked together. They’re in all different positions but in every picture one of them has their manhood half inside of the other’s body. In the other man’s  _ rump. _

That’s where the collectors had shoved the hard metal thing that had shocked Minseok inside and made his legs twitch until they were aching, made him scream until he was hoarse and his balls were empty. But all these males are doing it to each other with their own bodies.

His finger moves by itself to touch one of the images and Minseok jerks backwards slightly when the picture expands to fill the screen. There’s a muscular human male, lying on his back with one leg hooked over the shoulder of a hybrid with long white ears. The hybrid’s manhood is clearly lodged inside the human’s rump and both of them have their heads thrown back, mouths open.

“The hybrid is hurting the human?” Minseok asks. Why is the human just lying there like that? Is he also shot with drugs?

“Nope, it’s not painful unless you rush things. Men need to be lubed up good and stretched a bit with fingers first, but then it’s fun for both of them.”

“Lubed up?” Minseok asks, still unable to look away from the screen. It seems impossible for it to be  _ fun. _

He taps the image again, expecting it to shrink back down. Instead, the picture begins to move, the long-eared hybrid pushing his hips forward and pulling them back, making the human’s body jiggle a bit. They move faster, the human pushing himself back against the hybrid’s manhood and tugging at his own. The human is saying  _ yes, yes _ in English along with other words Minseok doesn’t understand, but he seems to be urging the hybrid to keep going rather than telling him to stop.

Then the human spills his seed across his own belly and the hybrid stiffens, pressing himself deep inside the human as his ears flutter above scrunched-shut eyes. A moment later he pulls his manhood out of the human and the picture changes angle to show the hybrid’s seed dripping from the human’s hole as the two of them taste each other’s mouths.

Minseok’s manhood twitches in his sweatpants. 

“Yes, lube,” Baekhyun is saying. “It’s a liquid that comes in a bottle and it helps make things slippery. If it’s not slippery enough, you could make each other hurt and even bleed.”

“I don’t want to hurt Dae,” Minseok murmurs. 

He thinks again of the blood droplets welling up on Dae’s shoulders in the bathtub and shivers. He had had little bruises on his shoulders this morning, little marks like blueberries where Minseok’s fingers had squeezed too tight. Minseok had felt a little bit bad about that but he’d been secretly proud of the lighter marks on Jongdae’s neck, the faint mark on his own.

“Dae likes a little bit of pain with his pleasure, so don’t worry too much. Just go slow, especially at first. Slide one of your fingers in first, then when he relaxes, you can use two fingers. Then three. That part can be fun, too, so don’t feel like you have to rush to get to the main event, as it were.”

Baekhyun taps at the tablet to show him more moving pictures and Minseok watches closely, tail flicking behind him.

“Dae will really like it if I put my fingers in his rump?”

“If you get his permission first, talk to him, pay attention to his reactions, yeah, he’ll like it.” Baekhyun’s smile is wide and blue. “But we gotta teach you some sexier terminology, my sheltered friend.”

“I do not live in the shelter anymore,” Minseok asserts.

Baekhyun’s grin is mischievous. “No. No, you do not.”

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

Jongdae’s ears must be deceiving him. It must be that waking up with Minseok’s warm breath beneath his ear and all his blood in his dick has given him some sort of brain damage. Hallucinations. Because there’s no way his sweet, innocent mate would ever say such things.

He freezes in the hallway just outside the shelter lounge, shaking his head to clear it, uncaring that he looks like some recently-drenched dog.

But there it is again: his favorite velvety voice, breaking Jongdae’s brain.

“Dae, I want to  _ fuck _ your  _ ass _ with my  _ dick.” _

If cartoon nosebleeds were real, Jongdae would be dripping blood everyfuckingwhere.

The next voice is also familiar and wrenches the situation into sharp focus.

“Good! And what’s another sexy word for dick?”

“Cock.”

“Excellent.”

Fucking Byun Baekhyun.

_ “Byun!” _ Jongdae stomps around the corner. “What in sweet justice are you teaching my mate?”

The two of them are collapsed in fits of giggles, propping each other up on the sofa. It’s a good three minutes before either of them attempts to speak, but then they make eye contact with each other and dissolve into wheezing, quaking puddles all over again.

“Real professional there, Byun,” Jongdae huffs. “If you’re done corrupting Minseok—”

“Corrupting?” Baekhyun gasps. “Oh, no, pal—I’m  _ empowering  _ him. To properly express his needs in his primary hybrid/human relationship. It is  _ exceedingly _ professional. I am being paid real American dollars to aid the Dollhouse hybrids in developing skills and mindsets that will facilitate their healthy integration into law-abiding society, and I take my job very seriously.”

“How is teaching him to swear helping him to integrate?”

“Because, you moron, your mate wants to integrate healthily with  _ you _ , and having the vocabulary of a child in that area isn’t going to convince you to treat him like an adult.”

“What?”

“Dae,” Minseok coos through residual chuckles. “I really do want to fuck your ass with my dick. And suck your cock. But only if you want me to—I will be careful and respectful. And you can do the same to me, but you have to stop if it hurts.”

Jongdae closes his eyes, body flushing with heat. Is it arousal? Shame? Merely his heart exploding? Jongdae has no idea and probably won’t live long enough to find out.

His eyes fly open when arms sneak around his waist and familiar plush lips collide with his own.

“Dae,” Minseok smiles. “Are you too flustered to function?”

Another line learned from the Phrasebook De Byun. 

“Uh, yes. Aside from Baek, most people don’t discuss these sorts of things in public.”

“Is this public? Even though there are only the three of us? I am sorry—I would not have asked if anyone else could hear.”

“It’s fine—Baek likes embarrassing me. He’d probably be filming this to show Taeyeon except that you’re covered by client privilege.”

“I am very privileged,” Minseok agrees. “I have the best mate.”

“Ah, but not if you have to resort to this to get laid,” Jongdae sighs, returning Minseok’s embrace. “I didn’t mean to treat you like a child—I just didn’t want to push you if you were happy with how things were between us.”

“I am happy,” Minseok assures him. “But I did not know how things could be. And I want to be very close with my mate. Imitate.”

“Intimate,” Baek coaches from the sofa.

“Intimate,” Minseok corrects. “If you want. I only want it if you want it.”

“I only want it if you want it,” Jongdae echoes, giving his mate a sheepish smile.

Minseok’s answering smile is brighter than an entire field of dandelions. “Then… let’s buy some lube on the way back to our den. And some conceal-up. A  _ lot _ of conceal-up.”

Jongdae buries his face in Minseok’s shoulder to hide from Baekhyun’s renewed cackling.

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

Armed with the appropriate supplies, Minseok finally gets to strip Dae down, toss him on their bed, and put his hands and mouth all over the human’s pretty speckled body. His toned chest. His tiny waist. His furry legs. And eventually his manhood—his  _ cock— _ standing proud before Minseok even touches it.

“This is okay?” Minseok asks from between Jongdae’s legs. “I can taste it?”

“Yeah, Min,” Dae smiles, propped up against the pillows. “Take good care of me.”

“Always,” Minseok promises.

His human almost yowls when Minseok wraps his hand around Dae’s cock. He definitely does when Minseok gives his wrist an experimental flick. 

“Human cocks are so smooth,” he notes.

Dae laughs. “That’s—they’re the same as hybrid cocks.” He suddenly leans forward, brow furrowed, a hand on Minseok’s elbow encouraging him to straighten up rather than curve his body over Dae. “I mean—isn’t yours…?”

Touching his mate had encouraged Minseok’s own cock to fill, and he has no qualms about letting Dae look at him, eyes intensely locked on his groin.

“Holy fuck.”

Dae reaches out, looking up at Minseok with wide eyes, scent wary. “May I touch you?”

Minseok nods, uneasiness curling around his ribs. “Do you not… like it?” His own dick had been the only one he’d ever seen until Baek’s videos, and the ones he’d paid most attention to had the hybrid giving the human pleasure. He hadn’t even looked at the hybrid’s manhood—he’d been intensely focused on learning how to make his human mate feel good. It had never occurred to him that there might be something wrong with him.

“I…” Dae runs a tentative touch over the fingertip-sized conical bumps studding Minseok’s dick from below the head to about halfway down the shaft. “…guess I should be grateful they’re not actual spines. And actually…” 

He encircles Minseok’s cock with his finger and thumb, sliding the foreskin over the nubbly section twice. Minseok sucks in a breath as his cock kicks, the sensation somehow much more intense when Dae does it even though Minseok has done the exact same thing to himself in the past.

His reaction makes Dae smile up at him, wary scent dissolving before a fresh wave of arousal. “Actually, these… will probably feel really good.”

“It is nice when you touch them,” Minseok agrees.

Dae’s cheeks darken. “Uh, I meant for  _ me. _ When you’re inside me. When you fuck my ass with this cock.”

“Oh.” Minseok catches Dae’s wrist when he goes to stroke Minseok again. “Good. I do really want to do that. But Dae. Right now I really want to taste you. And you are being very distracting.”

“Sorry,” Dae laughs, releasing Minseok’s dick to lie back against the pillows. “By all means, taste away.”

“I will,” Minseok growls, loving the way Dae’s cock twitches. He catches the smooth shaft in one hand to steady it as he settles back between Dae’s legs, pressing a wet kiss to the flared head.

“Min,” Dae groans, a hand floating down to rest lightly in Minseok’s hair, curved around an ear. “My mate.”

Minseok runs his tongue up the underside of his cock, long and slow as he inhales deeply, wanting to taste with mouth and nose. It’s so good Minseok has to have more, has to press his face into the triangle of soft dark curls and inhale again, nose scrunching, lips curled up, tongue curved into a trough to channel as much scent as possible to the back of his throat.

“Dae,” he exhales, only to suck that scent into his head again, holding it, rolling it around inside himself for as long as he can. “Dae, I wanna eat you.”

Dae’s fingers tighten in his hair. “Taste all you want, swallow me down—I just wanna be in one piece when you’re done with me.”

“Swallow you,” Minseok repeats, loving the idea. He has no use for candy, but there’s something else he wants to suck on.

The sound Dae makes when Minseok sucks the head of his cock into his mouth is very exciting. Dae’s cock is the perfect mouthful, thick enough to stretch his lips a little but not enough to make it uncomfortable for Minseok to keep it there, heavy on his tongue. He slowly tries to take in more length, smooth head sliding along the roof of his mouth and making him shiver. 

“Oh,  _ Min,” _ Dae sighs, fingers on one hand digging into his scalp, palm of the other hand curling tighter around his ear. 

Minseok thinks this would be the perfect way to spend eternity, suspended on Dae’s delicious dick, mouth full of his mate, drowning in his scent. If he could manage to swallow enough of him down so he could simultaneously bury his nose in the fur between Dae’s legs, so much the better. 

Some of the people in the videos Baekhyun had showed him could do that. Baekhyun had said it takes practice. Minseok will practice every day.

For now he imitates those videos, pulling his head back to let Dae’s cock slip between his lips before pushing forward again to slide it along his tongue. He does this only a few times, slowly, focusing on the thickness in his mouth, the taste of his mate on his tongue.

“Ah, Min,” Dae gasps. “Min, stop!”

Immediately Minseok releases Jongdae from hand and mouth, gaze locking on his mate’s panting face. “Sorry—I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Doesn’t hurt,” Dae huffs. “Feels too good—woulda finished in your mouth.”

“Oh. Um. I think I would… like that?”

Dae chuckles. “I’m not against letting you try it, but I want to pleasure you, too. If you suck me dry I will be too sleepy to make you feel good. C’mere.”

He tugs playfully on Minseok’s ear, pouting when Minseok flattens it to slide between Dae’s fingertips. Minseok lifts his ear back up only to flatten it again when Dae reaches for it. The pout increases and Minseok lunges at it, settling over his mate, chest to chest, groin to groin, nibbling at the protruding lip.

“Aha!” 

Dae closes both hands firmly around Minseok’s ears, then waggles them back and forth in his fists. Minseok pulls back from the kiss to regard his ridiculous mate with a raised brow and a suppressed smile.

“Now who is the child?”

Dae laughs, sliding his hands from ears to cheeks and pulling Minseok in for another kiss. “You are too sexy, my handsome, enthusiastic mate. I had to be a little silly for a moment to distract myself.”

“You are more than a little silly,” Minseok chides, but he does so with a smile and another deep, claiming kiss.

“I am.” 

Dae runs his hands down Minseok’s body, gliding palms over his shoulders and back until they settle over his hips. “Min. My beautiful mate. I want so much to give you all the pleasure you deserve. Will you help me? Talk to me? Let me know what you like, stop me if it isn’t fun?”

Minseok nods. “I have been thinking about it. I want to try lots of things, but… right now can we both just use our hands? Together?” 

Any other time a human had touched him between his legs, it had hurt. But Dae is  _ his _ human, his mate, and Minseok trusts him.

“Yeah, Min. That sounds perfect.”

Dae looks relieved and Minseok has to kiss him again. “Don’t worry. We are mates. Even if I don’t like it, I will not break your arms.”

He smiles down at his mate who laughs and rolls them on to their sides. “Is this comfortable?”

Minseok nods, looking down between their bodies where their cocks are nestled together, one nubbly, one smooth. This hadn’t been what he’d pictured, but now it’s what he wants. He reaches down, trying (and mostly failing) to wrap his hand around both their cocks at once.

“Dae, help me. Wanna feel good together.”

He rumbles low in satisfaction when Dae’s little hand slides between their bodies from beneath to wrap with Minseok’s own around their dicks.

“Yes,” Minseok growls at the tighter grip. “Dae,  _ yes.” _

Dae moans, rolling his hips against Minseok once before reaching for the brand-new bottle of lube. It takes him a few moments (and a few curses) to break the seal and get it open, but soon he’s drizzling the clear liquid over Minseok’s hand and both their cocks. Minseok hisses a little at the chill but then Dae’s hand is back, moving to spread the lube which quickly warms up.

Minseok’s purrs fill his chest as he claims Dae’s mouth again, rolling his own body back against the movement between them. Dae slides his smooth human tongue into Minseok’s mouth and he sucks on it like Baekhyun is always doing to that blue candy. Dae’s moan drops deep into something almost like a growl.

“Min,” he chants when he reclaims his tongue. “Min, thrust harder.”

Minseok’s movement falters for a bit, unsure what Dae wants. But a hand on his ass encourages him to press his groin closer, slide his cock in and out of the slick tunnel of their hands and Minseok’s body takes over, rolling hard and fast. The purr in his throat becomes more of a yowl flavored with a snarl and then he’s pumping his seed hot between their bellies, feeling it leave his body in waves of  _ yes _ and  _ more _ and  _ Dae _ instead of yelps of pain, feeling Dae’s cock throbbing in his hand as he empties his balls along with Minseok.

It feels amazing. So much better than when he’d done it on his own to keep his seed from the collectors. Dae seems to enjoy it, too, based on his deep, breathy yells and Minseok grins, proud to be responsible for that.

Then it’s silent except for purring from Minseok and panting from Dae. Suddenly sleepy, Minseok tucks his face against Dae’s neck.

“That was good?” Minseok asks, inhaling the thick aroma of Dae’s satisfaction. “We are proper romantic mates now?”

“We were proper romantic mates before,” Dae huffs. “This doesn’t change that. Doesn’t change how I feel about you. But yeah—it felt really good. Did you like it? It’s okay if you didn’t.”

“I liked it,” Minseok confirms, kissing Dae’s cheek. “It makes me want to try other things.”

“I’m in favor of other things, but I’m gonna need some time to recover.”

Minseok snorts. “No other things tonight. I want to enjoy this for now.”

They drowse together for a moment, warm and floaty. But their seed starts drying on Minseok’s skin and it makes his tail jittery, the urge to be clean overpowering the desire to lay still.

“We need to wash,” he states.

“We have the wipes,” Dae reminds him, reaching for the package on the nightstand.

The wipes are already moist and a little soapy and they do a satisfactory job of removing the mess from Minseok’s skin. Dae gets up to dispose of them and then tries to flop back into the bed despite Minseok’s noises of protest.

“We need our pajamas,” Minseok reminds his lethargic mate.

“We don’t have to hide our bodies from each other, now, do we?” Jongdae asks. “We don’t need to wear pajamas. You can just put some shorts on and we’ll cuddle. Or you don’t have to put anything on at all.”

“I am civilized,” Minseok asserts. “I will wear shorts and so will you.”

“If you insist,” Dae laughs.

It’s so, so nice to curl up in bed with his denmate, his romantic mate, his human, his Dae. So, so nice that Dae is bold now, kissing Minseok first instead of just letting himself be tasted. So, so nice to be nuzzled into wakefulness as if he hadn’t heard the human’s tablet making noise, to be kissed and cuddled and touched, to slide beneath the blankets to taste Dae’s cock again, to lick and suck until Dae’s fingers tighten in his hair, to keep going until Dae fills his mouth with thick, salty fluid, the taste of his mate for Minseok to swallow down and keep.

And it’s so, so nice to lie back against the fluffy hotel pillows and let Dae taste his cock in return, to purr and growl and yowl as Dae manages to take all of him into his mouth at once, to feel Dae’s forehead against his belly, to arch up and empty his balls into Dae’s hot mouth.

“You are good at that,” Minseok huffs as he tries to catch his breath.

Dae chuckles, crawling up to lay on top of him, smiling into their kiss. “Having your mouth on me feels amazing, too.”

“Good,” Minseok says. “I will try that tongue thing on your cock next time. And I will learn to swallow you all the way like that.”

Dae makes a strange little groan and buries his face in the crook of Minseok’s neck.

“No more sexy talk. I have to go in to work again today, much as I’d love to just lie around in bed with you.”

Minseok pouts.

“I agree with that face, except today is another deposition, and I have to be there. It’s important.”

“I know—my mate works very hard. You will be very tense after that, so I will study Baekhyun’s tablet well while you are gone. Then I will have many ideas for helping you to relax.”

The noises that come out of Dae after that make Minseok laugh until his ribs ache.

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

Minseok is a menace. Being mates with him is going to kill Jongdae well before his thirtieth birthday. Perhaps this very evening.

Evidently, it’s true what the conservative pundits say: An empowered hybrid is a dangerous one. The way Minseok smiles makes his sharp canines glint in the light as he stalks Jongdae, backing him up until the bed hits him behind the knees and he goes down.

Minseok’s on him immediately.

“My Dae,” he purrs. “My mate.”

“All yours,” Jongdae agrees through a moan as Minseok grinds down on him.

“You were gone a long time today.”

“More depositions,” Jongdae apologizes as Minseok snuffles at his neck.

“I rubbed my scent all over you this morning. But now you barely smell like me at all.”

“Sorry?”

“Why are you sorry? Did you rub scents with others today?”

“No.”

“Good. You’re mine. You will smell like  _ me.” _

There’s a lot of rubbing and licking after that, much of which tickles. So there’s also a lot of squeaking and whining on Jongdae’s part, most of which only serves to make Minseok pin him down tighter, lick him more roughly.

“Ouch, Min—I’m not one of Baek’s lollipops, you can’t lick me that hard. It hurts.”

Minseok is instantly contrite and Jongdae has to catch him before he pulls himself away. 

“Hey, it’s all right,” Jongdae murmurs against Minseok’s cheekbone.

“It’s not—I keep hurting you.” He runs mournful fingers over the various claw and tooth grazes that now decorate Jongdae’s shoulders. Two weeks of enthusiastic lovemaking had left Jongdae’s skin a little worse for wear.

“You never hurt me on purpose,” Jongdae soothes. “And I don’t really mind—I just want to get your attention when it’s a little hurt so it doesn’t become a big one.”

“But I don’t want to even hurt you a little. You’re my Dae. My mate. I’m supposed to protect my mate, not hurt him.”

“You barely hurt me,” Jongdae dismisses. “And, well, it’s sort of exciting for me, I guess,” he admits, feeling his face heat at the growing realization.

Minseok tilts his head, ear tufts bouncing with the movement. “You like when I hurt you?”

Jongdae winces. “Not—no. I don’t want you to  _ really _ hurt me. But it’s kind of hot knowing that you  _ could _ hurt me, on purpose, basically whenever you chose. I mean, I try to stay fit but I’m not part wild animal— _ two _ wild animals,” he corrects as Minseok opens his mouth. 

He takes Minseok’s wrists, placing the heels of his hands on each of his shoulders. Minseok’s weight shifts forward as he does so, and Jongdae wiggles a bit beneath him. As he’d hoped, Minseok instinctively holds him down, claws emerging to prick at his skin. He feels his heart pound a little faster at the “dangerous” situation he’s in, watches Minseok’s nostrils flare as he reads Jongdae’s scent.

“Oh,” Minseok says. Then his pout stretches into a smirk. “You  _ like _ being my prey. Like at the park—you liked when I chased you.”

Jongdae nods. “Humans sometimes like to, uh, pretend to be in danger,” he says, trying to figure out how to explain the concept of  _ adrenaline rush. _ “We build roller coasters—machines that go fast, even upside-down, because it’s exciting. And we have places where people dress up as scary things and jump out at you in the dark—horror houses.”

Minseok’s face is scrunched in confusion, so Jongdae resigns himself to internet searches rather than verbal explanations. “I’ll show you on my tablet. But the point is that it’s fun because it’s not  _ actually _ dangerous—it just  _ seems  _ like it is. And you  _ are _ actually dangerous, but I’m your mate. You might chase me, pin me down, put those claws and teeth against my skin, but you won’t hurt me on purpose—I trust you. But it’s fun to remember that you  _ can.” _

The wicked grin is back on Minseok’s face. “It’s fun to chase you and pin you down. And I love tasting you everywhere, my yummy mate.” Then his brow furrows, thumbs running over the scratches beneath his hands. “But I get carried off. I am afraid I  _ will _ actually hurt you.”

“But you’d stop as soon as you realized it, right?” Jongdae reaches up to rub at the base of one lovely tufted ear. “So we just need to agree on signals I can give you, subtle ones, to let you know if you’re getting carried away without ruining the mood.”

“Like what?” Minseok leans into the caress, bending his elbows against Jongdae’s chest to bring his ears into easier reach.

“Well, lots of couples use a color system that matches the traffic signals—red for  _ stop, _ yellow for  _ slow down, _ green for  _ keep going. _ But, well, that’s not going to mean much to a guy who sees all those colors as sorta the same.”

“You could just tell me to stop, slow down, or keep going,” Minseok says, eyes drifting shut as Jongdae brings his other hand up to rub at both ears. “We do not need traffic signals for that.”

“True, but, well…” Jongdae knows it’s silly to be glad Minseok can’t currently see his blush when the hybrid’s sensitive nose is surely giving him away anyway, but it’s still easier to say these things when he’s not being closely observed with eerily bright silver-green eyes. “I mean. It might be fun sometimes to say ‘no’ or ‘stop’ without really  _ meaning _ it. Like, playing a game. Pretending.”

Minseok’s eyes slit open. “You smell very flustered.”

“It’s a little embarrassing,” Jongdae admits. “I don’t want you to think I’m, I dunno. Weird or something.”

“Dae. I have only been out of my cage for two months. I still think  _ everything _ is weird or something.”

Jongdae laughs, gently tugging on Minseok’s ears until the hybrid leans down to share a kiss. “What’s your favorite thing about being out of that cage?”

“You.”

Jongdae’s heated cheeks tug his mouth into an automatic smile at the unhesitant declaration. “Awww, that’s sweet—I’m really glad. But besides me.” Jongdae has hopes his mate will be chanting his name during sex anyway.

“Steak.”

This answer is also unhesitant and totally unsurprising. He kisses Minseok again, unable to resist such adorable earnestness. The guy in his arms isn’t ashamed of his preferences in anything, and it emboldens Jongdae to speak up about his own desires. Unless he’s getting off on hurting the previously-abused hybrid, Minseok isn’t going to judge him. He has no non-video basis for comparison, really, and if Jongdae’s lucky, he never will. 

“Okay, so. Even if I smell a little scared, I could use ‘steak’ to tell you that the fear is just part of the fun.”

Minseok pulls away, ears entirely upright, tail lifting high enough to curve over his head. “Oh! Yes. And if it’s  _ not _ fun, then you can say ‘grapefruit,’ because those are  _ terrible.” _

“Makes sense,” Jongdae chuckles. “Is there a food that you’re okay with but not excited about? Something between grapefruit and steak?”

Silver-green eyes roll upward in thought. “Baekhyun’s candy is just like eating warm ice? Sour ice, or tangy ice, or just nothing-ice?”

Jongdae blinks. “Huh—evidently  _ all _ of your senses are more animalistic than the average hybrid.” 

Cats can’t detect sweetness at all—being obligate carnivores, the ability to taste carbs isn’t necessary. But sourness with bitterness is an important indicator of meat being spoiled, which probably explains why his reaction to grapefruit is so aversive.

“I am two animals,” Minseok reminds him. 

Perhaps that truly is the reason why Minseok’s senses, his cock, his hunting instincts, even the noises he can make are all much more animalistic than what Jongdae’s experiences with hybrids have led him to believe is typical. Maybe being ‘two animals’ had doubled up on some of the shared feline traits.

He wonders if Dollhouse knew that, that their fertility drugs produced ‘wilder’ hybrids. If they did, they probably didn’t care—hybrids of any kind were just animals to them, anyway. And a ‘problematic’ hybrid would just be drugged into compliance, either by Dollhouse or whoever they sold them to.

“But also a delightful person,” Jongdae says, trying not to follow that line of depressing thought when he has his gorgeous mate nude and on top of him.

It’s cute the way Minseok blushes at compliments, especially given that he’s so confident to begin with. His sense of self-worth is perfectly healthy, yet he always seems surprised. It’s heart-squeezingly endearing.

“You are delightful, too,” Minseok murmurs. “And delicious.”

“Then you’re welcome to hold me down and devour me,” Jongdae invites with a wink.

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

Minseok smiles down at his delicious mate. “I am the luckiest,” he declares, leaning down to taste Dae’s lips. 

Dae laughs into their kiss. He looks so happy when Minseok pulls back to look at him—he always looks happy, like the corners of his lips don’t know how to be sad.

Sometimes he smells sad, though. And Minseok gets a whiff of it now, even as Dae runs fingers through his hair. 

“My Min,” he murmurs. “I wish you’d had a much better life. Safe, comfortable, with your family, not forced to do anything worse than eat your vegetables as a kid.”

Minseok makes a face. Dae chuckles.

“But I will do  _ everything, _ Min. Everything I possibly can to give you the best life possible from now on.”

“I already have it,” Minseok dismisses. “I have my mate. My happy little prey. You smell amazing, my Dae. You smell so good, I want my mouth on you all the time. I chose you for my denmate at the shelter because you were smaller than me and you smelled so nice, not at all like lies. But the more we got to know each other, the more I liked you, not just for your yummy scent.”

He leans down for a gentle kiss. “You are very brave and determined and kind. You have dull teeth and no claws and yet you work hard to protect me, to save all of us. From the beginning, you were ready to fight for us, even though you didn’t know any of us. I am so proud to have such a fierce, good-hearted mate. I would still choose you out of all the humans in the world.”

Dae’s cheeks go dark and Minseok grins at him, grins wider when Dae’s heart rate rises at the flash of his fangs.

“I like how fierce and good-hearted you are, too. And I’m very, very proud of you, Min. In so many ways.”

Minseok has to lean down and kiss him, feeling his cheeks bloom with heat. He settles properly against his Dae’s chest, feeling the heat of his body radiate upwards.

“You’re so warm,” he murmurs against lips that chuckle in response. “If I’d have had you with me, Dae, I’d have been content in my cage. We’d have been so cozy in the cold, and with two of us, we could have made a plan. We could have stood up to the collectors. Protected each other. But even if not, we would still be okay. We’d have each other. We wouldn’t be alone.”

“You’ll never be alone if I can help it,” Dae says, kissing him hard. “And we are making plans to stand up to the collectors. We’ll be cozy in the winter, but it’ll be even better in a warm home, with blankets and warm baths and hot food. We’re gonna take good care of each other, right?”

“Right.”

There’s lots more kissing after that, Minseok purring so hard it vibrates from his body into Dae’s, making him giggle. For a while, Minseok thinks it might be a night where they don’t actually fuck, where they just kiss and cuddle, which is just as good. But Dae starts to smell like arousal, and his hand slides down Minseok’s back to curve around his ass. It gives Minseok’s cock ideas, because sometimes when he’s inside his mate Dae grabs him like this with both hands, pulls him in deeper. 

It must truly feel nice—Minseok wouldn’t do it to his mate if he didn’t think it felt nice—but Dae’s enthusiasm has made Minseok very curious. And he’s learned that his mate is very wordy, likes talking before doing, and that Minseok has to be very clear about what he wants because Dae never wants to misunderstand, never wants to upset him—not for fear of arm-breaking, but because his mate truly cares about him. 

He feels so lucky to have his Dae that sometimes his chest squeezes with how much. No mate, human or hybrid, could ever be better.

“Dae. I want you to fuck me this time.”

Dae freezes. His scent clouds with uncertainty, so Minseok pulls back, swiveling his ears up and forward to catch every sound he might make.

“Only if you want to,” Minseok adds. “I like fucking you a lot, if that’s what you like the most.”

“I like it either way,” Jongdae says. “I like pleasuring you in lots of ways. We don’t have to take turns, though—you don’t have to force yourself—” 

“No forcing,” Minseok says. “We agreed—no one will be forced. Not even ourselves.”

“Right, of course.”

“But you like it when I fuck you. I want to like it, too. I want my mate to fuck my ass with his cock, make me feel good inside instead of hurt. If it’s fun, I want to do it.”

“I will do my best to make it fun for you,” Jongdae smiles. “But definitely stop me if it’s at all uncomfortable.”

“I will grapefruit at you so fast,” Minseok promises, which makes Dae laugh at him, reeking of affection.

They kiss a little more, and then Dae rises up on an elbow, shifting them onto their sides. Minseok agreeably wraps his arms around Dae, letting himself be pushed over on to his back. Dae’s leaned over to kiss him before and Minseok has always responded eagerly, but this time, when Dae’s weight settles on top of him, Minseok’s heart starts to pound. 

It’s not from excitement like Dae’s rapid pulse. It’s from… fear. A silly fear—Dae isn’t going to hurt him. Dae cares about him—but somehow his body doesn’t care about that. A scream tries to escape his lips so he squirms out from under Dae, answering his surprised eyebrows with the words they’d agreed on.

“Grapefruit. No—candy? I don’t know. I still want you to fuck me. But… I don’t want to be under you, even if you’re not pinning me down. Even if you’re only going to be good to me.”

“Okay,” Dae nods. “I’m glad you told me.”

Minseok feels his lower lip jut out. “But… I don’t want you to fuck me from behind, either. I want to be able to see you.”

“Okay.” Dae smiles. He rolls onto his back again, holding out his arms to Minseok.

Unable to squish the feeling of disappointment, Minseok allows himself to be drawn down into Dae’s embrace.

“Sorry,” he murmurs to the crook of Dae’s neck.

“Why are you sorry? You don’t need to apologize for your preferences.”

“But I wanted you to fuck me.”

“I will. But you can still be on top of me while I do it. Haven’t you seen that in any of Baek’s videos?”

Minseok’s ears lift and his tail quivers. “Oh! Yes. I will cowboy you.”

Dae laughs. “Yeah. You’ll ride me. So you’ll have all the control—you can go slow. Stop whenever you want.”

“I will stop when your seed is inside me and mine is on your belly.”

With a moan that sounds rather like a whine, Dae pulls him into a kiss. “How are you so good at sexy talk? If I said that, I’d sound ridiculous. It’s so hot when you say it.”

Minseok shrugs, shifting his legs until he’s straddling his Dae. “You think I am gorgeous. You think everything I do is hot.”

“Not hairballs.”

Chuckling, Minseok swishes his tail chastisingly against Dae’s side. “I don’t enjoy them, either. But better out and gross than in and uncomfortable.”

“Fair,” Jongdae sighs. “It just kinda freaks me out that you swallow that much of my hair.”

“It kinda freaks me out that humans have fake cat tongues on handles—”

“Hair brushes.”

“—instead of grooming yourselves  _ properly. _ You’re lucky, too. That a hybrid decided to mate you and take good care of you. Humans aren’t very good at taking care of themselves without all their fancy tools.”

“I don’t know how I managed without you,” Dae smiles, scent affectionate layered with deceptive.

Minseok narrows his eyes. “You’re teasing me.”

“I am.”

“I will revenge you.”

Dae’s eyes go wide and his heart kicks up as Minseok growls at him. Then his mouth goes wide as well when Minseok tickles him. He laughs and writhes, rubbing up against Minseok where he’s straddling him. Careful of his claws, Minseok presses one wiggly shoulder down, keeps tickling with his free hand. Dae yells and squirms and smells so good, Minseok has to fold forward and taste the soft skin of Dae’s throat, right where his pulse throbs. He closes his teeth a little and Dae shudders, whining high as his arousal pours into Minseok’s nostrils.

“Dae,” Minseok growls, cock trapped heavy between their bodies. “Dae, touch me. Inside—your fingers.”

The whimpering beneath him continues but there’s the pop of the lube bottle being opened. Mouth still on Dae’s neck, Minseok’s ears swivel to follow the sounds of movement on either side of him, so he’s not startled by the press of Dae’s hand on his ass. He helpfully lifts his tail up out of the way, flinching a bit when he’s touched gently where he’s only ever been given pain before.

“Candy, my mate. Go slowly with me.”

“I’ll take good care of you, my Min. But just say the word and we’ll stop.”

“Don’t stop.”

It feels so strange to be stroked softly there. To be entered slowly and gently by something slim and flexible, something that isn’t painful, to know it’s his mate’s fingers between his legs, in his ass.

“I know you’ve had bad experiences with prostate stimulation,” Dae says. “Do you want me to try it, or would you prefer I avoid it?”

“Is using fancy lawyer words supposed to be sexy talk?” 

Minseok can’t help but smile down at his Dae even as Dae pouts. He knows Dae can’t help it—his human knows so many big vocabularies, they just slip out when he’s not even thinking about it. It’s really rather cute.

“Fine. Does my sexy mate want me to try touching your sexy spot to see if you like it?”

“Yes. Your sexy mate wants the chance to like  _ everything, _ my careful Dae.”

“Okay. Claws in, then—it’s often a very intense sensation.” 

Obediently, Minseok retracts his claws fully and curls his fingers into fists to make extra sure he doesn’t hurt his mate. Dae curls his fingers, too, where the pair of them are deep inside Minseok. He pulls them out slowly and— 

Minseok yowls.

Dae immediately relaxes his fingers, letting the buzzing in Minseok’s core die away. “Grapefruit?” Dae asks.

“C-candy? I—” Minseok considers. “I think I like it?”

“Again?”

Minseok nods. “Slowly.”

Dae obliges. Minseok’s yowl this time is less alarmed and more intrigued, his cock hardening fully again against Dae’s belly. 

“S-steak,” Minseok manages to moan, turning his head away from Jongdae’s neck so he doesn’t sink his teeth into it. “Dae—don’t stop.”

His yowls sound more and more like groans of pleasure as Dae continues to stroke him inside, petting pleasure into Minseok instead of punishing him with pain. His cock kicks each time, trapped between their bodies along with Dae’s, and Minseok thinks he might understand why his mate is so enthusiastic about the differences between their dicks. If two fingertips feels good, the many nubs must feel very ‘intense.’ But even the flared head of Dae’s smooth human cock would probably feel really good, and Minseok wants it, wants all of it.

“Dae,” Minseok groans out. “Dae, I’m g-gonna—Dae, fuck me with your cock. Want to—on your cock.” 

Dae groans too and Minseok can feel his cock flex between them, evidently eager to fulfill Minseok’s request. His fingers pull out of him and Minseok’s backwards-pointing ears are focused on the sound of the lube bottle. The cap snaps open, it sputters, and then Dae’s using one hand under Minseok’s ass cheek to steady him as he straightens up, trying to look behind himself where his quivering tail is obscuring his view of what’s happening below him.

“I’ve got you,” Dae breathes. “Slowly, my Min.”

Minseok lowers himself slowly, pausing when he feels the blunt head of Dae’s cock prodding at him. He takes slow breaths, relaxing himself as he sits back on his haunches. They pause when the head of Dae’s cock has pushed inside Minseok, Dae half-sits up, shifting so both his hands are beneath Minseok’s ass, keeping him from descending too quickly as Minseok tries hard not to put any more claw marks on Dae’s shoulders.

Judging by the faint scent of Dae’s blood in the air, he’s not entirely successful.

But then his ass is resting against Dae’s hips and he’s so full, so stretched, so  _ connected _ to his mate. It’s not very comfortable at first, but Dae’s fingers are now rubbing circles at the base of Minseok’s tail which is whipping impatiently behind him, whapping against Dae’s shins.

“Candy?” Dae asks.

“Candy,” Minseok confirms. “Just a little…”

“Take your time, my mate. Don’t start moving until it feels good.”

One of Dae’s hands moves to pull at Minseok’s cock, sliding sensitive skin up and down his shaft. It does a lot to focus Minseok’s attention on pleasure rather than strangeness, and soon his hips are flicking forward automatically, lighting sensation where they’re intimately joined.

“Oh,” Minseok says, trying a slightly bigger bounce. “Oh, Dae. This is… Nice. Yes. Mmm.”

“It’s nice for me, too,” Dae chuckles. “You feel so hot inside. You squeeze me so tight.”

“You feel good inside me, my mate. I am happy—you always smell like pleasure when I fuck you, but now I  _ know, _ Dae. I know it feels good.”

“It does,” Dae agrees. 

His hands on Minseok’s cock move a little faster and Minseok bounces a bit more quickly in response. Pleasure builds up and rips through him suddenly, making him snarl out a scream that might have been his mate’s name.

He’s still pulsing his release all over Dae’s taut little abdomen when Dae takes Minseok’s hips in firm hands and fucks up into him half a dozen times before he’s also groaning. Minseok can feel his mate’s cock throbbing inside him, loves that he can see and smell and hear and feel Dae’s pleasure, can’t resist leaning forward to taste the sweat on Dae’s chest.

“Dae. Mate. So  _ good. _ Mine,” Minseok murmurs between swipes of his tongue over Dae’s skin.

“Min,” Dae manages between pants. “I’m all yours. My Min.”

He’s purring so hard anything else he’d try to say would be completely obliterated so Minseok just grooms his salty, delicious mate as Dae softens inside him, tail swishing contentedly over Dae’s legs. It’s a little hard to just lick his mate instead of bite him, but clawing his mate is bad enough. He’s not going to let himself actually chew on his delicious love.

“I love your purring so much, Min. Feels so good to be inside you when you’re rumbling like that.”

“I love making you feel good. How can I not purr when you’re under me, smelling of sex and contentment?”

“I’d be purring, too, if I could.” Dae tries to riffle his exhale with his tongue. The attempt is so cute that Minseok has to kiss those upturned lips, slide his own tongue in to vibrate beside Dae’s.

Dae wraps both arms around Minseok, holding him close and cozy and warm. Skin to skin with his mate, lips to lips, Minseok purrs hard enough for the rumble to resonate from his chest into Dae’s.

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ


	6. Chapter 6

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

A groan of frustration rumbles through Jongdae’s chest as he frowns down at the writ in front of him. He feels like he’s been running in place for weeks, and while Minseok is very good at his self-appointed job as Jongdae’s personal stress reliever, he just wants to make some fucking progress already.

His preferred form of said progress would just be to take all of the Dollhouse proprietors back to the compound and lock them into the cages they’d forced the hybrids to live in. It would be perfectly poetic, and certainly less hassle than combing through the legal codes of four countries in an effort to find something to pin on them.

Something with jail time, at least.

The “theft” of the originally-trafficked hybrids from their home countries was a slam dunk, but the laws written at the time of most of the offenses only incur fines and a returning of the “stolen property.” Since this happened thirty years ago in some cases, many of the original owners have moved, passed away, or are otherwise difficult to locate despite news alerts urging people to come forward if they’d had a hybrid go missing in the relevant time period. But hybrids have also been known to run off, so the people contacting the police aren’t necessarily the correct ones. it’s a logistics nightmare to sort through everyone and match them up with hybrids they potentially once owned, not to mention that said hybrids may not want to go back and live with that human. Or, like Minseok’s mother, may not even still be within Dollhouse’s “stock on hand.”

Cadaver dogs, ground-penetrating radar, and forensic search teams have so far failed to turn up any hybrid remains at the Dollhouse compound, but the facility did have a suspiciously-large incinerator. Testing the residue to determine if it was ever used for cremation will take time and may not even be incriminating, since Dollhouse admitted to disposing of miscarried or stillborn kits in the thing, which isn’t illegal. 

Nobody will reveal what the records meant by “retired” except for saying “not used for breeding anymore” which is usually delivered with the sort of smug you-can’t-touch-me smile that makes Jongdae want to abandon his usual position that creating and upholding the law is the best way to achieve lasting change. Instead, he’d rather like to leave the heartless proprietors alone in a room with one of the volatile male hybrids. Let them answer to that huge white liger, for example. 

Because sadly, even with proof, slaughter of “livestock” isn’t a crime, and “unlawful disposal” of the hybrids they’d trafficked just requires they make financial restitution to the hybrid’s legal owner. And even if this special congressional session—which is, of course, dragging on for-fucking-ever—actually declares hybrids to be some sort of person rather than allowing them to be classified as animals, it’s too late for those that have already left Dollhouse’s “inventory” one way or another. If they weren’t “people” at the time of the crimes, they weren’t legally victims. 

If Dollhouse had really been housing big cats instead of hybrids, there wouldn’t be much to complain about. The enclosures were larger than legally required for the number of “animals” within. The hybrid chow that they’d fed their “stock” was nutritionally complete. They weren’t bred “too young” or “too often” by livestock standards. And they claimed to screen homes to ensure their fancy creations weren’t going to be “unappreciated” by their new owners.

Except hybrids are  _ people, _ have always been people, and the fact that he can’t nail these scumbags to the wall with anything is making him more than a little crazy. Well, anything hybrid-related—their best shot at jail time is the development and testing of experimental drugs without authorization, without being registered as a research facility or being subject to the supervision of a board of scientific and ethical review. 

The USDA provisions for “non-human primates” that are used for research are also promising, and Jongdae would much rather pursue that classification if he must treat hybrids like animals. The regulations include things like ensuring non-human primates can see and hear other members of their own species even if they’re housed separately, that they’re offered a varied diet, allowed to “engage in species-typical behaviors,” and so on. 

All he needs are experts and/or precedents that will back up his assertion that, whatever else they are, hybrids are primates of some kind. Then, given the extent of their failures in those areas, Jongdae is fairly sure he can get at least some jail time instead of just fines for the Dollhouse proprietors. Still, it doesn’t really feel like justice to put them away on animal-care technicalities rather than because they fucking kidnapped, imprisoned, forcibly bred, and sold off sentient beings for profit.

It does feel like justice to spoil the fuck out of Minseok, though. To see him marvel at all the things the world can offer, watch him reclaim his own body by wearing sapphires in the holes left by the ear tags, to ride Jongdae through the mattress despite being previously abused. To dress him in warm clothing as winter rolls in, and feed him every kind of meat Jongdae can find in this not-exactly-metropolis, even though he still loves steak the best, especially if he gets to grill it himself.

It feels like justice when Yixing and Junmyeon finally get to take surly, skittish Zitao out of the shelter, both of them teary-eyed while the tall snow tipard eyes them with disgust. Yixing stays with him in the same hotel Jongdae and Minseok are in, hoping that despite the language barrier between the two, visiting his half-brother and seeing him adapting well will help Zitao to adjust to his new life.

But being undersocialized males, they hate being in each other’s “territory,” so Jongdae ends up spending rather a lot of time at the park with Yixing. November in North Dakota is inhospitable, meaning the two humans end up huddled together on a bench, bundled up so much they can barely move, while the hybrids chase each other around in their puffy snowsuits. They often end up unzipping their jackets, tossing hats and mittens at their indulgent humans, because like their natural counterparts, the “two-animal” hybrids run at a higher body temperature than humans. It’s only an extra three degrees fahrenheit, barely a fever for a human. But evidently it’s enough that early winter is more than tolerable, especially considering they’d spent the last one absolutely nude.

Now they have cute sweaters visible beneath their puffy winter coats. And the bright yellow scarf Jongdae had lovingly wrapped around Minseok’s neck to match his puff-ball hat is now being used as a lure, being tugged by Minseok casually over the snow, fringed end evidently difficult to resist for the snow tipard. He jumps out from behind a tree to pounce on it, leading to a gleeful tug-of-war and then a wrestling match involving rolling around in the actual snow in a way that makes Jongdae shiver violently just to watch.

“They’re adorable,” Yixing chuckles from where he’s pressed up against Jongdae’s side. “When do you think the last time they played was, before they left the shelter? Was it when they were still kits? With their mothers?”

“Probably,” Jongdae says sadly. “Well, they probably pounced on things—Minseok seems to do it automatically whenever something flits past him. But he seems mostly annoyed by those instincts, especially if he’s trying to do something else when the urge strikes.”

“Zitao tends to hold himself back when he’s around us, just observing what we do like Jane Goodall among the apes. He doesn’t really interact with us unless we initiate it, but he insists on being nearby, watching us, all the time. It’s made, er,  _ reconnecting _ with Jun a bit impossible.”

Jongdae winces in sympathy. “Min wants to be near me all the time, too. Preferably on top of me.”

Yixing snorts. “I don’t think Tao is going to ever be a lap-kitty. But he took a piece of jerky from my hand directly today instead of waiting for me to put it down on the table for him to pick up. I think he was just hungry and impatient, but I can’t help feeling it’s a good sign.”

“Of course it is. It means he trusts you not to hurt him. Or at least that he considers you a non-threatening source of delicious food.”

“Typical cat,” Yixing laughs. “Still, if he’s at least not hating living with us, I’m happy. He deserves the chance to live his life fully, and if that means he just uses us as a home base to sleep at and leads an entirely separate life from ours, that’s fine.”

“It is,” Jongdae says. “But you want more. I can tell by the way you make heart eyes at him all the time.”

Yixing laughs. “Jun’s even worse—he tries not to stare at him because he doesn’t want to seem at all intimidating, like that tall, wiry hybrid is going to be afraid of my little Myeonnie unless he’s holding a tranquilizer gun. So he just tries to surreptitiously watch him, failing miserably because he’ll get enthralled watching him use chopsticks in one hand and a fork in the other to feed himself. He gapes like he’s watching Bambi take his first steps every single time.”

“Myeon-hyung has always been a sap. It’s one of his charm points,” Jongdae agrees. “But you like Zitao, too. Don’t try to pretend you’re detached and businesslike.”

“I’m attached and unprofessional,” Yixing admits without apparent shame. “I’d love it if he ended up even just  _ liking _ us, even if he’s never as dopey about us as we are about him.”

“He does like you, at least in a way,” Jongdae says. “Min told me his scent changes when you’re around—he at least considers you to belong to him, even if it’s currently the same as a favorite sleeping spot or a delicious meal. So he’s at least that attached already, even if he’s still not ready to let you close to him.”

“Aww—that’s reassuring, at least.” Yixing’s coo turns into a smirk. “I mean, it’s not the same level as leaving bite marks all over each other like  _ some _ people, but it’s nice that he’s a bit possessive of us.”

Jongdae feels his cheeks warm beneath his scarf. All his hickeys are covered, but Min’s repurposing of his own (matching) scarf is revealing a garden of love blossoms and tooth impressions over his throat, colors varying with their age. 

“He’s really into biting and stuff,” Jongdae defends. “He likes it when I use my “dull human teeth” on him, because he can’t really use his sharp hybrid teeth on me.”

“He could if you got him one of those bite-guard thingies,” Yixing says. “That’s what Lu Han uses with Yifan—sometimes he forgets to take them out before he video-calls us to do remote counselling sessions with Zitao, which, please, I am so grateful for your help and I know timezones are problematic, but I don’t need to know about your morning sex beforehand, thank you.”

Jongdae laughs. “Hybrids really don’t see sex as taboo at all, do they? It’s probably a better attitude—you should get with the program so you can properly enjoy being with Jun in a fancy hotel someone else is paying for.”

“I am not having sex with my husband while Zitao stares at us like  _ we’re _ the ‘livestock’,” Yixing states. “I mean, Jun and I talked about it and if Tao ever wants to join us in the bedroom we’d welcome him, but it would have to be as part of a relationship between equals. We’re definitely nowhere near that point yet.”

“Between equals is important,” Jongdae agrees. “It still makes me feel a little gross to be one of  _ those people _ that sleeps with their hybrid, but Minseok initiated all of it—with Baek’s encouragement, of course.”

“Unsurprising.” Yixing’s eyes sparkle above his scarf. “Baek would probably know where to get those bite guards, actually. If you can survive asking him for help with your sex life.”

“I am sure he already knows way too much about it,” Jongdae huffs. “There isn’t client privilege between a predator and his all-too-willing prey.”

“Aww, he’d keep it private if you told him it was important to you.”

Jongdae shakes his head. “I told Min I don’t mind if he talks to Baekhyun about literally anything. I don’t want to be his only in-person source of information, for one thing. Plus Baek’s the most dedicated social worker there is. Minseok deserves the best, and he’s been doing so well—sometimes I forget that he’s been isolated and abused because he’s so bright and observant, he just goes with the flow and figures things out so quickly.”

“It shows up in their speech more than anything,” Yixing agrees. “Lu Han assures me Zitao is far from stupid, but his vocabulary is so limited I sometimes feel like I’m talking down to him. But Minseok is helping with that, sort of—I’d say at least twenty percent of what Zitao says to us is in bastardized Korean, which Jun loves.”

“Min’s picked up a little Mandarin, too. And enough English to be polite to shopkeepers—he really likes breaking their ignorant brains by being the one to order things and pay for stuff. He’s like a one-man hybrid stereotype killer.”

“Whereas Zitao is more like a one-man hybrid killer,” Yixing laughs. “He just glares darkly at everyone, so I have to be the charming one when the two of us are out in public. I apologize so much that I feel like a fucking Canadian.”

“Well, we’re practically in Canada,” Jongdae says with another shiver. “If this trial is going to last all winter, we’re going to need to raid a sporting goods store and come out here with ice fishing supplies—heat packs, one of those little tents to block the wind…”

“Oh yeah, and a thermos full of coffee. With whiskey in it.” His eyebrows lift. “Oh, maybe you could get some bite guards there—they won’t be fancy like whatever clear, durable ones Lu Han has, but they’d probably work temporarily at least. Closest thing you’re gonna find in this unadventurous city, probably. Unless you wanna order some online and have them delivered to your government-sponsored hotel address…”

This time Jongdae’s shudder isn’t from the cold. “No, thank you. I’m fine with my friends knowing I’m enjoying a little kink, but I’d at least like my employer to believe I’m an upright defender of justice.”

“They’re not mutually exclusive,” Yixing chuckles. “But fair enough, I wouldn’t want my work life and my sex life to intersect if at all avoidable.”

“Bullshit—I saw that hot blonde costar in your last movie. If Myeon-hyung liked girls at all, you’d have invited her to a special wrap party—an  _ unwrap _ party.” 

Yixing giggles a bit, staring at his snowboots instead of looking at Jongdae. Or denying it. Or protesting at all.

“Zhang Yixing, you smooth actress-fucking devil. I can’t believe Myeon-hyung let you have fun without him!”

“He, er, didn’t.”

Jongdae gapes behind his scarf. “You didn't tell him?”

“Of course I talked with him! I’d never cheat on Myeonnie. But he thinks she’s sweet and fun and charming, so he decided he didn’t have to be attracted to women to take me from behind while I—”

“O _ kay, _ TMI!” Jongdae chortles. “I’m glad you had fun. But if Zitao’s half as possessive as Min and you want him in your bed, you might consider altering your lifestyle—I doubt he’d tolerate interlopers well.”

“That’s fine,” Yixing says, smiling over at the hybrids who are now building some kind of snow… thing? It might be a squirrel. Or a dick. “I’m not opposed to a closed relationship. I definitely care more about the happiness and security of the ones I love rather than having sexual variety.”

It’s definitely a dick—the pair of mischievous felines have sprinkled dead leaves over the “balls” to represent hair, and they’ve jammed a bouquet of icicles into the tip to represent a successful conclusion to their little snow-erotica. It’s a  _ human _ dick, to be specific, and Jongdae can’t help but smile over at Yixing, who doesn’t look as enthusiastic about keeping his own dick within a smaller circle of admirers.

“You may find that Zitao provides more variety than you’d expect—if Min’s illustrating anatomy over there, I’m guessing it’s because Tao shares Minseok’s anatomical peculiarity.”

Yixing looks very confused. “I mean, he’s male, right? Not that i’d love him any less if—” 

“He’s one of their most prolific fathers, so yeah, he’s male. But he’s also a mix between two animal species who don’t hybridize naturally, so his mother was probably given those freaky drugs to enable such a pregnancy. Which probably means he’s more wild than most hybrids—can he see colors well?”

Yixing tilts his head. “I haven’t thought to ask him, but he really likes blue.”

“Test him for red-green colorblindness. And prepare yourself for him to have upgraded sexual equipment compared to yours.”

“Like what?”

Jongdae just smiles smugly at his friend. “Let’s just say you’ll be really glad to have a prostate and leave it at that.”

Yixing’s wordless noise of surprise—enthusiasm? Has both hybrids running to see what the commotion is about.

“Why are you yelling? Why do you smell sexy?” Minseok’s nostrils flare as he closes in to rub his scent on Jongdae’s shoulder.

“You always think I smell sexy,” Jongdae laughs, letting the hybrid do his thing.

Zitao is sniffing at them, too, albeit from farther away. He scowls at Jongdae over Minseok’s head, evidently blaming him for whatever conclusion the scents led him to. Then he leans down to quickly swipe one elegant cheekbone over Yixing’s hooded head before calling Minseok back to their snowy “art.” 

Yixing’s smiling eyes are so warm, Jongdae stops shivering entirely.

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

“—protest, hybrids, rights, something about being hungry?” Baekhyun says, doing his best to translate what the protestor being interviewed is saying. “I’m sorry—I don’t know enough English—here, let me find a Korean report on the situation.” He grabs his tablet and starts tapping at it while the hybrids in the lounge stare at the flashing lights and commotion on the big TV mounted on the wall. 

Minseok’s rudimentary English is doing him no good here, either, but at least he can understand Baekhyun’s attempts to explain. Zitao, on the sofa beside him with his knees drawn up against his chest and his tail wrapped around himself, is reeking of alarm.

“Yixing?” he asks. “Jun-ma?” 

It’s the first time since Zitao had left the shelter a month ago that he’s been back, having spent his days with Yixing and often Minseok, either in the hotel’s common areas or on various outings. But Yixing had to take a flying-plane to somewhere called  _ Hollywood _ to do something for his acting-job and he won’t be back for a week. Reluctant to leave Zitao alone, Junmyeon had suggested this return to Minseok’s previous routine of hanging out and pelting Baekhyun with questions about their new world.

There’s usually a Mandarin-speaking social worker here, too—a tiny, serious woman called Liyin—but she doesn’t arrive until the afternoons, spending her mornings with the female hybrids and their offspring at the other shelter. So at eight in the morning, it’s just Minseok who knows any words Zitao might understand. Zitao laughs at Minseok’s pronunciation, but his own pronunciation of Korean is just as bad, as demonstrated by his inability to properly say Junmyeon’s name. Thankfully, like everything else the snow tipard does, Junmyeon finds it adorable.

“Safe,” Minseok says in Mandarin. He’d try to hug his distressed half-brother if he thought it would be comforting instead of panic-inducing. Aside from brief scent-marking of his humans and play-fights with Minseok, Zitao still does not like to be touched at all. So Minseok searches their limited shared vocabularies to find words to reassure him with instead. “Uh… wrestle,” Minseok says in Mandarin, pointing to the commotion on the TV. “Far away,” he concludes in his native tongue, making a sort of waving, tossing gesture away from himself.

“Oh, here,” Baek says, making one of Minseok’s ears swivel to listen to the social worker while the other remains focused on Zitao. “The local news in Seoul has this little snippet—the story is so fresh they don’t have the full info yet, but here’s what they’ve got so far: ‘Hybrid rights protestors in New York City, USA, have taken to camping out around the holiday tree in Rockefeller Center Square, stating that they intend to stay there with no food until Christmas to draw attention to the plight of hybrids in underfunded shelters. They particularly want the public to be aware of the hundreds of hybrids confiscated from the Dollhouse Decocats unethical breeding facility, stating the best holiday gift to be a safe, loving home for a hybrid in need.’”

Baekhyun scrolls to continue reading. “‘The demonstration became volatile today after several participants fainted from lack of nutrition and medical professionals attempted to provide aid. This action was resisted by the other protestors, claiming their intentions to continue their hunger strike regardless of personal consequences, including death. Riot police were dispatched to allow the afflicted participants to be removed for medical treatment. A police spokesman stated that New York officials are not unsympathetic to their cause, but that they have a responsibility to protect human life and ensure the safety of aid-providing personnel.’”

It might be in his language, but that doesn’t mean the formal words make much sense to Minseok or the other Korean-speaking hybrids in the room. The Japanese-speaking social worker, a very earnest young man called Yuta, is reading aloud what’s probably the Japanese equivalent of the article Baekhyun just quoted. Of the three Japanese-speaking males in the shelter, one is nodding while the other two stare blankly until Yuta puts the tablet down and starts using shorter sentences, looking at his charges to make sure they understand.

Baekhyun similarly starts breaking the article down into non-lawyer words, causing Sehun, the big white liger, to start growling, further making Zitao’s eyes dart frantically from Minseok to the TV, then to the liger pacing around the edge of the room. Sehun has torn the sleeves from his sweatshirt and ripped it open down the front, making the rough edges of the fleece flare wide in the wind created by his agitated movements. 

Zitao is also part tiger, and he smells about ready to either join Sehun in stomping around the room or perhaps to attempt to stomp on Sehun himself, so Minseok hops off the couch in an effort to remind his half-brother that they’re civilized. Besides, Junmyeon likes dressing Zitao in nice clothes and would probably be disappointed if the tipard ripped them up.

Minseok grabs for Baekhyun’s tablet as Sehun makes the social worker repeat the information in smaller words so he can understand. Sehun seems very smart, but he’s always at least a little angry, frustrated that he can’t always understand or be understood. Baekhyun’s patient with him, like he’s patient with all of them, explaining over and over without complaint. The future guardian of Minseok’s youngest offspring really is a good human dog.

In the absence of his own translator, Minseok does his best for Zitao with the tablet. He types a simplified explanation into the web translator—Dae had showed him how to use it after they’d made a human cock out of snow, saying that humans are dumb and dislike when their young might see images of genitalia in public, even though half of human young have their own version of what they’d sculpted. Humans are so weird about their own bodies.

But at least Dae’s demonstration of how to trade words with Zitao in public instead of sculpting explanations is coming in handy once again. Dae had said that simpler sentences were best, because the computer knows lots of words but not something called ‘nuance’ and sometimes it screws things up. So Minseok sticks with  _ humans wanted to help. they sat outside because hybrids need homes. some got sick. other humans came to take care of them. they got mad because they wanted to be sick. to show they were serious about helping. but it’s against human rules to not help a sick person. so they had a fight. it is far away from us. far away from yixing. he is safe. _

The complicated writing the tablet spits out in response to Minseok’s careful typing are as unreadable to Zitao as they are to Minseok, but there’s a button to make a computer voice say them out loud. Zitao listens carefully, tail flicking, as the tablet’s speaker says what Minseok typed.

The sound draws the attention of those close enough to hear it, and Baekhyun flashes them a smile and a thumbs-up. But Zitao just flicks an ear, forehead wrinkling at the translated explanation.

“What?” he asks, one of the first Mandarin words Minseok learned to understand.

Minseok shrugs. The situation doesn’t make much sense to him either, so he’s not surprised Zitao doesn’t get it, even if the computer managed to translate everything properly. He makes the tablet repeat the part that whatever the situation is, it’s far away and Zitao’s humans aren’t in danger. Zitao nods, giving Minseok a thankful smile before returning his attention to the screen, now with an attitude more quizzical than alarmed.

Sehun suddenly stops pacing, turning to Baekhyun with his hands clenched into fists. “Humans are stupid,” he states, voice as flat as the ears hidden in his stripey mane. “They want to help, then make laws. Not starve—food is energy. Need energy to help.” His tufted tail lashes the air behind him. “Now big humans are mad. Other humans will see—not want to help.”

Lips flattened between his teeth, Baekhyun nods. “That is a possibility. People often have more sympathy than sense. They don’t know how to help, so they just bring attention to an issue and hope the right people listen.”

Sehun’s scornful scent brightens with a whiff of enthusiasm. “Then  _ we  _ make protest. When humans come look, make TV, we tell them. Help us learn. Read, numbers, say many fancy words. Then we get jobs. Take care of ourselves.  _ That _ is best gift.”

Baekhyun nods again but his scent is a little sad. “Independence—being able to take care of yourself—is the ideal,” he agrees. “Sadly, we’re a bit far away from truly being able to give you that. But you did give me an idea—I have a friend who makes videos on YouTube. Like the ones I show you on my tablet—no, not  _ those _ videos. More like the how-to ones, or the ones where people try things and react. He’s in Korea, but if I film you all with my tablet, I can send it to him and he can edit it. Maybe we’ll end up with a viral video.”

“I do not want a virus,” Minseok states. “I let them poke me with a needle.”

For a moment Baekhyun just blinks at him, then his brows lift. “You got a flu shot?”

Minseok nods. It had stung and made his arm sore for days, but Dae had said he was worried that Minseok would get sick. Something about having lived alone for a long time and then being around other people—Minseok hadn’t understood all of Dae’s explanation. But his mate’s eyebrows had made the letter ㅅ split in half when he’d asked Minseok if he’d let someone poke him, and Minseok is helpless to say no whenever that happens. He doesn’t want his Dae to be worried about him, though it’s nice that his mate cares about him so much.

Baekhyun cares about hybrids a lot, too, so Minseok isn’t offended by his chuckle. “Not that kind of virus,” he says with a smile. “It’s an expression, meaning an idea that spreads rapidly from person to person.”

“Yes,” Sehun says. “Protest will spread. Humans will see. Will hear what  _ we _ want. Humans being hungry does not make our bellies full.”

“Okay, we’ll try it, then. I’ll talk to Jongdae, have him ask the other social workers. Liyin and the other female social workers can ask the women, maybe even film some of the kids. We’ll tie it in to the holiday, something about a shelter hybrid’s Christmas list.”

He dials his phone, then proceeds to chat away excitedly with whoever picks up. He’s talking too fast and using too many slangs for Minseok to understand well, but he picks up “viral video” and “Christmas list.” 

Humans sure are obsessed with this Christmas thing. Minseok still doesn’t quite understand it—Dae had told him it’s supposed to celebrate a baby being born in a barn, one that grew up to be something called a  _ religion. _ But Baekhyun said it’s about some old fat guy who flies around with magic animals and sneaks into people’s homes while they’re sleeping. Minseok hopes Dae’s version is right—nobody’s sneaking into their hotel-home if Minseok has anything to say about it. He’s the only one allowed to watch his Dae when he’s sleeping.

The one thing both explanations had in common is the idea that if people are good, they get nice things called  _ presents. _ And if they’re bad, they get a bad thing called  _ coal. _ Minseok had thought  _ coal _ was what Baekhyun had said he smudged around his eyes sometimes, but that’s a different thing that’s pronounced the same. Minseok used to be frustrated with the number of words for different things that are pronounced the same, but now he knows about puns. So he’d just told Baekhyun that it must be nice to get more eye-smudger whether he’s bad or good. Baekhyun’s groan had been very satisfying.

Minseok had asked a lot of questions about Christmas and has come to understand that a holiday is like a game that everyone plays together, pretending certain things will happen if they behave a certain way. He finds it a bit silly—why aren’t people just nice to each other all the time because it’s better for everyone, instead of being extra-nice for one season so they can get things for themselves? As Sehun had said, humans are stupid.

And Minseok doesn’t need Christmas for presents. His Dae has given him so much already, nice things to eat and wear and sparkly blue fires for his ears that match the smaller ones in Dae’s. And Minseok gives him presents, too, like all the best pieces of steak, cooked just the way Dae likes them. And even that clump of plants—Dae had put the dandelynx in a cup of water in their hotel room and pouted when they withered and had to be thrown away. So the next time they’d gone to the park, Minseok had made Dae use his phone to take a picture of Minseok lying among all the dandelynx that had mostly turned to fluff, his fur making him another tuft among the rest of the silvery flowers. That way Dae can see them whenever he wants and doesn’t have to pout. And Dae seemed to like it a lot—that’s the picture displayed on his phone  _ and _ his tablet when the screen first comes awake.

Yet humans really seem hung up on the idea of Christmas presents. Like they’re somehow more special. Things that they might not wish for the rest of the year. But Minseok is content with what he has for the most part, and the things he does want stay the same all the time.

So when Baekhyun sits him in front of the shelter’s fake tree, tiny lights glowing in the branches and shiny silver strings draped all over it, Minseok has an answer ready.

“What do you most want for Christmas?” Baekhyun asks, holding his tablet up between them.

“I want my family,” Minseok says. “My mother, my siblings—I don’t know what happened to them. If they’re safe, or even if they’re still alive. And my young—I’ve never met any of my offspring, and I’ve only seen a picture of the youngest. I don’t know them, but they’re still precious to me. I want to see them, but if I can’t, I at least want to know that they’re healthy, growing well, being taken care of, happy. That they’re loved by someone, since I’m not with them to do it myself.” 

He nods at the camera once. “That’s what I most want. More than anything, I want the ones I miss to be loved.”

Baekhyun stares at him from behind the tablet for a moment, and when he puts it down he’s wiping his eyes. 

“Damnit, Minseok,” he huffs. “We’ll have to put yours last because everyone will be sobbing too hard to hear anyone else’s wish.”

“I’m not sorry,” Minseok says. “I said the truth.”

“I’m not sorry, either,” Baekhyun says, waving a hand at his eyes. “It’s perfect. It’s going to turn out great.” 

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

Jongdae’s not sure how he became part of the Designated Test Audience for the holiday video Chanyeol had made of the footage of the Dollhouse Hybrids listing out their Christmas wishes. He doesn’t really do social media, and while he’s happy Baek’s gotten the otherwise-directionless hybrids working together on this little project, he’s not expecting much holiday spirit from a group of people who didn’t even know what Christmas was a few months ago.

But Baekhyun has his tablet broadcast the video to the shelter’s lounge TV, making a big production of the official ‘premiere’ as if it’s one of Yixing’s Hollywood films. He’s made popcorn, which the meat-loving hybrids are unimpressed with until he pours melted butter all over it. Then they’re fully on board with the salty, fat-drenched snack.

Minseok, because he’s precious, keeps hand-feeding Jongdae pieces of it. He’s snuggled up under Jongdae’s arm, purring softly in the semi-darkness of the surprisingly full lounge. Junmyeon is sitting beside Jongdae, being protective bookends with Yixing, one on either side of Zitao to keep the still-skittish tipard from being jostled. Zitao seems pretty calm, though, the tail wrapped around his middle the only sign that he’s not completely at ease among all these mostly-strangers. 

“I hope this gets a good amount of views or Baek’s gonna be so bummed,” Junmyeon murmurs.

Jongdae nods. “He and Chanyeol have put a lot of work into it, not to mention a lot of coaxing to get the other social workers to film with him.”

Baekhyun calls the crowd’s attention with his unignorable voice. “Thanks for squeezing in here, everyone—I just want to say a brief but wholehearted thanks to the shelter directors, my fellow social workers, and all of you for allowing this project to come to life, whether you agreed to be filmed or preferred to remain off-camera. I’m so honored to have been a part of this, but I’ll shut up now and play the video since I know many of you don’t love being in a crowded room.”

With a little bow in response to the crowd’s literal roars of approval, Baek pokes at his tablet and the video begins.

It opens with a slowly panning scene of brightly-wrapped gifts being tucked under a Christmas tree. Soft instrumental holiday music plays in the background beneath Yixing’s English voiceover. Baekhyun had told him the video was subtitled in Korean, Mandarin, Japanese, German, French, and Spanish to gain as many international views as possible, but right now it’s Korean flashing at the bottom of the screen since Minseok is the only one of the Dollhouse males who’d been literate before he came to the shelter. While the others are learning, none of them are yet able to read fast enough to keep up. Instead, each hybrid has an ear swiveled toward whichever social worker speaks their language, murmuring translations just loud enough for sensitive hearing to pick up.

“As kids, many of us make fanciful lists of all the treasures we’d like Santa to leave under the tree for us. As adults, our priorities change, but most of us still have a wish list written in our hearts—indulgences we crave, things we long for, dreams we haven’t yet fulfilled. And if life has been good to us, we often enjoy celebrating the holidays by giving back—filling items on the wishlist of someone less fortunate. 

“This holiday season, we asked a group of rescued hybrids—most living in a state-run shelter, none of them having celebrated Christmas or any other holiday before—what was on their lists.”

A red Christmassy font swirls over the screen as it goes black, spelling out A Shelter Hybrid’s Christmas List before being scrubbed away by a flurry of snow that reveals a young male hybrid smiling shyly at the camera. Jongdae recognizes him as one of the Japanese-speaking snow leopards, and so do many others in the room as the guy in question gets friendly jostles by those nearby.

“What do you want for Christmas?” Yuta asks from behind the camera.

“A racecar,” the bashful leopard answers.

“A racecar?” 

“Yes—I have been in the same place since I was born. I want to move, go fast, see the world.”

This Japanese-language exchange is captioned in English at the top of the screen so as not to interfere with any subtitles at the bottom, and Jongdae nods at the thoughtfulness of the choice.

A little girl with pointed sable ears is next, answering Liyin’s question with a dimpled smile.

“A kitten,” she says. “I’ve never seen a real live cat. If I met one, I think we’d be good kitty friends.”

There are coos from the crowd, then a young woman asks for a radio.

“My mom sang a lot when I was a kit, but I didn’t know there was so many kinds of music.”

“What’s your favorite kind so far?”

“The kind that’s happy. Makes me wanna dance.” She wiggles in her seat, giving the camera a bright smile.

A little boy says he wants a merry-go-round because he saw one on TV and it looked fun. And then six hybrids in a row, including several Jongdae knows to have a very limited ability to communicate, all state emphatically that they want  _ meat, _ to the amusement and approval of the crowd.

“I want a toy,” the next child says.

“What kind of toy?”

She shrugs. “I dunno—I never had one before!” She says this with a growl and a smile, as if the interviewer is teasing her about something obvious and not like she’s exposing a heartbreaking fact.

This theme continues, with a woman asking for a nice dress, like the ones she sees on TV. She’s wearing the shelter-provided sweats like all the others, but she holds the sides of her shirt out and gives a pretty curtsy. A pair of boys, obviously brothers, ask for bunkbeds, then bicker sweetly about who’d get to sleep on top before deciding to take turns. 

A man asks for a date, explaining that he’s tired of only living with other men—he’d like to get to know some ladies, because he hasn’t had a chance before. A girl says she wants books—she’s learning to read and is amazed that books are like going on a whole new trip somewhere new every time. When asked if she’d rather travel herself, she shakes her head, ear tufts bouncing.

“I’m too scared—the human world is big and momma says it’s mean sometimes. But books are safe and fun, and momma says there aren’t real unicorns or dragons out there, anyway.”

“I want a job,” one woman says, an infant in her arms and a toddler clinging to her leg. “I want to be able to provide for my children.”

Several other hybrids ask for jobs or an education so they can get a job. 

“I want to know everything,” one little boy gushes. “Then I can be smart and important, like a human. I’ll get to wear a fancy suit.”

Several express a desire to travel after living in one place all their lives. A man asks for a friend, explaining in halting speech that he hasn’t had anyone to talk to in ten years.

“I forget I words,” he says mournfully. “Want memember. Talk. Laugh.”

“I want to learn English,” the next guy says. “The social workers help me understand, but English is what the official people use. I want to understand what they’re deciding about my life.”

He’s followed by a cheeky little boy who wants to learn English, too, but because “that’s the language on the TV and I want to be on the TV.”

“Learn reading. Learn writing,” the big white liger says carefully. “So many words—I want all of them. Up here,” he points to his head. “Not just here.” He puts a hand over his chest, nodding very seriously at the camera.

There’s a run of hybrids wanting to learn all sorts of things—how to cook, how to draw, how to sew, and an adorable dimpled kiddo who wants to learn how to tie her shoes. One wants to dance, another to sing—”real songs, not ones I made up.” 

“I want to learn to be a good mate,” one man says. “I have twenty-seven young but I’ve never even kissed anyone. How do I get a female’s attention, make her feel special? The TV says bring her flowers, but that seems useless—can I bring her a bouquet of jerky instead?”

“It’d work on me,” someone in the crowd shouts, generating a ripple of laughter. 

“I want a nice home for my children,” a woman says, two kids squeezing onto a lap made tiny by advanced pregnancy. “I want them to be warm and dry. Sleep somewhere soft. Wear nice clothes. Just me and my babies—no one else.”

“I want someone to help me,” another says, five youngsters arrayed around her. “I want my children to have love and attention, but it’s hard when there’s only one of me. I feel like a bad mother.”

“I want my children back,” a third woman says, eyes watery, four little girls gathered to her chest. “My oldest daughter would be twelve, just becoming a woman. And my boys—eleven, nine, and eight. They’d have taken my little Eriko away next—she just turned six. I don’t care if they get sold to nice homes where they have nice clothes and good food—I want my babies with  _ me. _ Children belong with their mother until they’re all grown up.” 

“I want to be safe,” Zitao says. “I don’t want anyone to hurt me. No one should touch me unless I say it’s okay. I want my body to belong only to me.”

“I want to be free,” another male says. “I’m not in a cage, but I still can’t go out and walk around without a human to watch me. I want to go my own way. Make my own decisions. Live my own life. I don’t want to be a human’s pet.”

And then Minseok’s tufted ears and huge eyes are on the screen.

“I want my family,” he tells the camera before detailing the depths of the ache in his heart. He nods to himself, eyes unfocused, and the screen fades to black as his voice continues.

“More than anything, I want the ones I miss to be loved.”

Lump in his throat, Jongdae squeezes Minseok tighter, making him grunt as the air is pushed from his suddenly-compressed chest. But he doesn’t complain, just nuzzles against Jongdae’s shoulder, scent-marking him before reaching for more popcorn.

Contact information for several reputable hybrid-protection charities appears on the screen along with a note indicating those for additional countries are listed in the video’s description box.

_ Write to your elected officials, _ the next screen encourages.  _ Urge them to make laws acknowledging a hybrid’s basic rights, particularly to bodily autonomy and basic education. The wish on every hybrid’s list? Respect. _

And then the lights are turned back up, triggering a bunch of applause and enthusiastic yowling from the assembled hybrids. Some slip out of the crowd immediately after that, but several clump around their social workers, trading congratulations and teasing.

But Jongdae just sits there for a moment with his mate and his friends, swallowing the knot of past injustice with thick resolve for future vindication. And some really buttery popcorn, fed to him by a hybrid who has every right to be bitter but has instead proven to be very, very sweet.

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

Minseok can’t keep the sour expression off his face as he eyes the lawyer helping the collectors. Dae had warned him the guy would probably be rude—that it’s his job to be rude, not that it’s anything specifically against Minseok. But Minseok can’t help curling a lip at the guy, hair all slick, wearing a fancy suit, scent artificial and almost choking. 

The translator looks almost as fake but at least doesn’t smell so bad, natural scent detectable beneath his toiletries. He attempts to smile at Minseok as he translates the lawyer’s words.

“For the record, please state the identification of this source of documentary evidence.”

“My  _ name  _ is Kim Minseok.”

The lawyer shuffles papers, points to something as the translator leans over.

“This document has the evidence listed as snowlynx 900326, a.k.a. Dollhouse Decocats Glacial Frost.”

“I don’t care what their dumb paper says. My mother named me Minseok, and my sponsor’s family name is Kim. I’m part of Kim Jongdae’s family. I’m Kim Minseok.”

It had taken Dae a bit of effort to explain about human naming customs and how they varied in different countries, how most humans had two names, how since Minseok was legally part of Dae’s household he could use Dae’s family name if he wanted. Minseok likes being part of Dae’s family—that had been his own choice. Being “livestock” at Dollhouse was  _ not _ his choice and the dumb English name they’d evidently assigned to him without even telling him about it will never be his. And he’s  _ definitely  _ not answering to a mere number.

“I see. This is a legal alteration of identification, then?”

Minseok furrows his brow. He hadn’t changed anything, just added to the name he’d always had.

“Yes,” Dae answers from where he’s leaning in the corner. 

As Minseok’s sponsor (and, apparently, his personal lawyer), he’s allowed to watch them ask Minseok questions and make sure they’re translated properly along with Minseok’s answers. He’s allowed to explain fancy legal things to Minseok if the collector’s lawyers don’t do a good job and he doesn’t understand the question. And he’s there to provide “background information” about the case and investigation that Minseok might not know. But he’s not supposed to try to make Minseok say anything specific, and Dae had said to basically ignore him unless he needed help understanding a question and the collector’s lawyers had failed to explain it well.

So Minseok doesn’t turn around when the answer comes from over his shoulder. He just waits, trying to keep his face blank and his tail from doing anything more than idly flicking occasionally.

“Noted. And is the evidentiary source, one Kim Minseok, heretofore referred to as ‘the evidence,’ voluntarily submitting to documentation without coercion?” 

“Yes.” 

Minseok has answered enough questions for the good lawyers and the fancy-haired judge that he knows the list of official questions they ask at the beginning every time. He answers the rest of them with single words, even when they ask the insulting bits about whether saying the walls are painted white would be the truth or a lie. Then he waits for the first real question, trying not to be concerned about what they may ask.

“During the time the evidence remained at the Dollhouse Decocats facility, was the evidence ever deprived of food or water?”

“My water would freeze solid in the winter. I had to lick the ice block when I was thirsty, or just eat snow.”

“Was the evidence prevented from getting adequate exercise to maintain a healthy body condition?”

Minseok tries not to snort. Exercising is about the only thing he did—there wasn’t a whole lot else to do. 

“No.”

“Were any environmental structures allowed to become a danger to the evidence, through design failure, wear, or neglect of routine maintenance?”

“Define ‘environmental structure.’” Dae had taught him to say this for any terms he didn’t know. Minseok likes being able to sound like an adult concerned with accuracy rather than a small child asking  _ what’s that _ all the time.

“Any permanent structure or fixture thereof with which the evidence had contact.”

Minseok rolls his eyes at their need to use fancy words all the time when simpler ones would do just as well, even though Dae had explained that in the law, wording is very important. Certain words mean very specific things to lawyers and judges, so they have to use those words to make sure all the other law people understand, even if it makes it difficult for non-law people.

But he’d also said that Minseok should answer all questions in his own words, and that if he disagreed with a term or definition being used he could speak up about that. That his words, the ones he chooses to use, are important, too. They may ask Minseok to define his own terms, but he doesn’t have to feel limited or intimidated by their lawyer words. 

“Do you mean the walls of my cage? Or the cement den?”

“How does the evidence define ‘cage’ and ‘den?’”

Minseok flicks his tail at always being called ‘the evidence’ instead of his name, but the good lawyers did that, too. 

“My cage was metal, with bars that crossed like many English X letters stacked up. The top was the same way, and it completely surrounded the place where I lived and kept me from leaving. It had cement below the bars so I could not dig under it—I do not know how far down it went. Once I tried to find out, but they drugged me and filled it all in again and took away my digging stick.

“The den had four straight walls and a flat roof, made of thick cement. It had a rectangular hole in one wall, with more walls in a ㄱ shape in front of the hole. It was as high as my shoulder on the outside, but the inside ceiling was lower. I could not stand up in the den—I had to hunch over or crawl.” 

“Enclosures and shelters are indeed counted as environmental structures.”

Minseok resists rolling his eyes—all the repetition and restating is just lawyers being extra sure they’re all talking about the same thing, but it’s still annoying. 

“Please repeat the question regarding environmental structures.” Dae had assured him he was allowed to be just as picky as the lawyers, making sure he knows what kind of answer he should give. He can always give more information than they ask for, if he wants, but he shouldn’t give less than they ask without a reason.

“Were any environmental structures allowed to become a danger to the evidence, through design failure, wear, or neglect of routine maintenance?”

Chin pinched between his finger and thumb, Minseok considers whether he could have hurt himself in his cage.

“I sometimes climbed the walls of my cage and hung from the ceiling. It was low enough that I could almost reach it with my fingertips when I stood flat on the ground. But I could have fallen from it, maybe hit my head on the cement den.”

“Was the evidence able to remain dry and clean?”

“I could usually stay dry. Staying clean was harder, but I would not live in my own waste. I tried to keep myself from getting too dirty, but my hair got matted—I had to cut them out with my claws.”

“Did the evidence experience illness or disease?”

“My body did not get sick—my nose would run in the winter if it was too cold. But since being taken away from my mother and siblings, I have been heartsick. I love them—I really miss them.”

They ask a few more questions and Minseok answers honestly even though he knows they’re only asking what they know he’ll give “good” answers to, that they’re trying to say that they treated him well. That they did nothing wrong because they fed him and gave him somewhere to hide from the rain and snow. He mostly succeeds at holding back his temper, his lashing tail being the only indicator of his displeasure.

He tolerates these bad lawyers and their dumb questions because the good lawyers have asked him similar questions, ones he truthfully gave “bad” answers to. That he couldn’t see or hear any other hybrids. That he was shot with drugs that made it so he couldn’t move, but felt and remembered everything they did. That they only fed him the same exact thing for his entire life. That he couldn’t do normal hybrid things like wear clothes, talk to people, groom or be groomed, choose his own mate, raise his own young, provide for his family, even just eat some actual meat. Those answers aren’t erased by the ones he’s giving now. His admitting that Dollhouse could be considered to provide adequate care for livestock doesn’t cancel out the fact that Minseok  _ isn’t _ livestock and should never have been treated like it.

Dae has told him that this is only the “baseline” interview. That they’ll ask easy questions, watch his reactions, and prepare harder questions for the future. That they’ll try to trip him up then, make him say true things that give a false impression. But Minseok isn’t afraid. Dae has assured him that no matter what he says, no matter how the trial goes, there is no chance he’ll end up back in a cage at the mercy of the collectors. 

He doesn’t belong to the collectors. He belongs to Dae, and Dae belongs to him. Not just in their hearts, but on official papers, and the collectors have no power over him anymore.

And even if they can’t prove the collectors broke the law, the fact that other humans will watch the trial, will learn what Dollhouse was like, will hopefully inspire humans to make hybrid friends at shelters instead of buying them from fancy breeders. That even if they buy from breeders, they’ll be less likely to buy from large-scale ones like Dollhouse. That without their illegal drugs, Dollhouse can’t make more snowlynx even if they’re allowed to still breed hybrids. That with any luck, the scandal will ensure raising hybrids isn’t profitable any more.

Baekhyun had said that their video protest virus had gotten many views, that lots of people were paying attention to it. Minseok will make however many more videos as he needs to, until humans understand that hybrids are people, too.

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ


	7. Chapter 7

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

Hybrids are both the best kind of people and the worst. Or at least,  _ Jongdae’s _ hybrid is. Baekhyun and Yixing are also on Jongdae’s love-and-hate list at the moment. Leaving his mate in the company of his friends was evidently a terrible idea.

Yixing had thought it would be fun to take Minseok and Zitao ice skating—if there’s one thing Bismarck, North Dakota can offer with confidence, it’s flatland winter sports. Particularly hockey. And any other kind of skating one can do on similar surfaces. Many parks have outdoor ice skating areas in full swing, complete with skate rental and a warming house serving cocoa and hot apple cider. 

Yixing came into acting by way of dancing, and still has that poise and balance that mean he’s quite capable of moving elegantly with metal blades strapped to his feet. And Minseok and Zitao are cats—they’re naturally graceful and are used to having sharp things on their toes anyway. So Jongdae was unsurprised when Yixing had reported their little outing had been a resounding success.

He was, however,  _ incredibly _ surprised when Minseok had straight up asked him on a date. To go skating. To be romantic at Christmas time, because evidently the TV had given him the notion he should do that for his human, just as he’d once given Jongdae a dandelion bouquet.

So now Jongdae, reasonably fit but not exactly graceful, is having to tie on a rental pair of sturdy leather boots with lethal fucking weapons attached. Not necessarily because they’re sharp, but because Jongdae is about to repeatedly fall on his poor undeserving ass. 

“You do not smell excited, my Dae.”

Damn hybrid sense of smell. “I’ve never done this,” he reminds Minseok. “I’m not going to be good at it.”

“I will teach you—that is part of the date.”

Yes, and it’s perhaps a cute trope when it’s the tiny lady falling to be caught by her tall and handsome paramour. But Jongdae is basically the same size as Minseok, though he doesn’t doubt Minseok’s strong enough to catch him. He’s just going to feel like an idiot the whole entire time. No big deal. It’ll make Minseok happy— 

“If you are not excited, we will do something else. We can build a publicly-appropriate snow sculpture.”

Jongdae smiles. “That would be fun, too. But we’ve come to skate, so let’s skate.”

Laces tightened, Jongdae stands up, already wobbly before they’ve even made it to the ice. He takes awkward steps in the heavy skates, balancing precariously on the guard-covered blades.

Minseok reaches to steady him, ice-green eyes bright and smiley above his yellow scarf. “You need a tail, my mate. For balance.”

“That would probably help,” Jongdae agrees, allowing Minseok to support him in order to lift first one foot, then the other to remove the blade guards. 

Minseok does the same, stepping out onto the ice like it’s a ballroom he’s about to dance across, confident and relaxed. He holds his arms out for Jongdae, humming fondly as his flailing, tailless mate basically trips onto the skating surface.

He finds himself braced against Minseok’s strong, purring chest and suddenly gets it. After months of relying on Jongdae and his friends for basically everything, Minseok is happy to be the one being depended on.

Suddenly Jongdae is much less reluctant to play the role of the fainting flower. 

He knows Minseok admires him. Knows Minseok finds him fierce. And he’s told Minseok time and time again that he loves how resilient and strong his mate is, that he’s turned on by Minseok’s chiseled physique (even if it’s a bitter aftertaste to know he’s so well built because he was bored into climbing around the top of his cage for any sort of tiny thrill). But saying it, running his hands along spotted skin over firm muscles, isn’t the same. If Min wants to show off a little, prove himself capable, a good mate, Jongdae is more than willing to cooperate.

So he gazes at Minseok through his lashes. “Thank you, my mate.”

Minseok’s eyes light up, then narrow after his next inhalation. “Suddenly you smell flirty instead of reluctant.”

“I feel flirty,” Jongdae confirms. “It’s exciting to see you be so good at this. Good enough to help me.”

The glow is back in Minseok’s eyes. “Yes. I will help you. We will skate together.”

They do, and it’s surprisingly enjoyable. Not just for how happy it makes Minseok, but on its own merits. Jongdae gets the hang of it under Minseok’s careful tutelage and watchful eye, always close enough to catch Jongdae’s balance if he starts to flail. Within an hour, they’re skating around the perimeter of the rink, hand in mittened hand, matching scarves trailing behind them in the breeze generated by their speed.

An hour after that, Minseok’s frowning at Jongdae’s chattering teeth, herding him into the warming house and pressing a styrofoam cup of watery service-station cocoa into his hand.

“My mate takes such good care of me,” Jongdae chuckles, lowering himself onto a bench to relieve the fatigue in his thighs. 

Minseok preens. “My mate takes good care of me, too,” he murmurs, eyes on his own cup of instant cider. 

Jongdae doesn’t miss how the snowlynx positions himself so as to be between Jongdae and most of the crowd. He’s wrapped his tail around his middle to keep it out of the way, and with his ears hidden beneath his beanie he blends in well with the humans around them. It’s probably nice for Minseok not to be stared at like some exhibit, but Jongdae still kind of hates it. Minseok’s beautiful for his whole self, inside and out. Plus, Jongdae’s come to rely on the sometimes stoic-faced hybrid’s ears and tail to give his emotions away. He can’t smell Minseok’s mood, but that doesn’t mean he can’t read it in his demeanor. 

And even without the ears or tail providing clues, everything about Minseok right now screams  _ bashful. _ It’s adorable. And sort of alarming.

“I have a present for you,” Minseok says, lifting shy eyes to meet Jongdae’s. “For  _ us. _ From Yixing and Baekhyun. They said it would be romantic if I gave it to you.”

Clutching his cider in one mitten, Minseok uses his teeth as an aid to pulling the other one off, then reaches to pull a smallish box from the pocket of his coat. It’s wrapped inexpertly in blue striped paper bedecked with six-pointed stars Jongdae is absolutely not going to tell him is probably intended for Hanukkah. It has a big silver bow on top and is dangling a tag with the last syllable of Jongdae’s name printed on it neatly.

“Min,” Jongdae says as he sets his cocoa on the bench beside him to accept the gift with both hands. “That’s very sweet of you. This whole thing—thank you for taking me on such a lovely date.”

Minseok’s cheeks are already so pink from the cold that it’s hard to tell if he’s also blushing over Jongdae’s words, but he does tap the toe of his guarded blade against the ground.

“I like showing you things.”

“You show me things all the time, my Min. The way you see the human world is so refreshing, it’s a treat to be by your side as you explore.”

Minseok’s eyes flick from his skates to Jongdae’s face. “Maybe… we could explore what your friends got for us.”

Jongdae had almost forgotten about the small package in his hands. He directs his attention to carefully unwrapping it, tucking the paper, bow, and tag into a coat pocket as he blushes down at the revealed items.

“Oh, Min,” he chuckles, heat spreading up his neck. “This is—wow.” In his hands are two little tins, both bearing a heart-shaped Love Bites logo. “Fang and claw guards, huh?”

Minseok nods. “We already molded them to fit me. So… we can use them whenever you want.”

“What do  _ you _ want?” Jongdae asks gently. “I really don’t mind a few little claw-marks here and there. You don’t have to make yourself uncomfortable. You’re perfect already, Min—I love being with you, sharp fangs, pointy claws and all the rest.”

He would never wish his fierce snowlynx to feel like he needs to be softer, more “domesticated” in order to please his fragile little human. It’s why he’s never suggested Minseok trim or file his needle-sharp claws—those are his defenses against an often-cruel human world. He’d never even consider taking that away from him, even if having natural weaponry is more often a mental bolster than a physical necessity. Humans had tried for over twenty-five years to diminish Minseok to a mere animal. There’s no way his own mate is going to reduce him to a housepet. 

“I know,” Minseok says to his skates. “I know you love me—I can smell it. I forget sometimes that you can’t, that humans talk so much about their feelings because otherwise you wouldn’t  _ know. _ But Dae—I love you, too. So much, my whole chest stretches with it.”

Jongdae blinks. Neither of them had confessed to the L-word, Jongdae because he didn’t want to pressure a guy who’d only ever known familial love, and Minseok—well, because he’s evidently never had to verbalize his feelings before. But before Jongdae can (apparently needlessly) verbalize his own feelings, Minseok lifts his face to pin Jongdae with intense ice-green eyes. 

“If you did not accept me fully, for everything I am, I would not have asked you to be my romantic mate. I also accept you fully, for everything you are. You are the predator when you’re at work, pinning down bad humans so they can’t hurt hybrids anymore. But you are also my happy, wiggly prey, letting me control your body, letting me feel excited and powerful when my body responds rather than desperate or afraid.”

That mesmerizing gaze drops to the items in Jongdae’s hands, then lifts again to his face. “But you are precious to me, my Dae. I must hold myself back for fear of hurting you too much, keep my hands in fists so I don’t accidentally sink my claws in your skin, avoid kissing you at all to avoid biting you too hard. Those feel a little strange to wear, but they will let me be more free.”

He gives Jongdae a lopsided grin. “I did not like wearing shoes at first, either, but I can’t go into restaurants without them. Delicious steak is worth wearing shoes. And my delicious mate is worth wearing those.”

Jongdae’s really quite glad his mate can smell his feelings because there are too many of them for him to put into words. Uncaring that they’re in public in a conservative state that still frowns on two dudes getting physical even when one of those dudes  _ isn’t  _ legally labeled as an animal, Jongdae leans over to kiss his favorite smile.

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

Going on dates with Jongdae is always fun, but Minseok is really excited for this one. It still counts as a date even though Junmyeon, Yixing and Zitao are with them, even if it’s not truly a “double date” because Zitao is still unwilling to admit how much he likes his humans. He does hold their hands, though, under the excuse that he doesn’t want anyone else touching him. Minseok smiles at the scent of contentment his half-brother is giving off, walking between his shorter humans as if they’re really the ones doing the protecting.

Zitao hisses at him. Minseok only smiles wider.

He’s holding his Dae’s hand, of course, and trying hard to be somewhat dignified in public even though it’s more than a little difficult to contain his excitement. Dae had learned that there are tigers, snow leopards, and lynx in Bismarck, at a place called the Dakota Zoo. So Minseok will get to see the actual animals whose features he shares.

The zoo isn’t very busy—it’s cold in mid-January, and most humans want to do winter things like skating if they bother to get bundled up and go outside in this weather. But Siberian tigers, snow leopards, and lynx are all pretty comfortable in the cold, so Dae thought it might be a good time for the hybrids to be able to see their forebears without being gawked at too much themselves.

The human at the window out front certainly gawks, eyeing Minseok and Zitao warily but still trading their money for tickets that they carry to the gate for another human to tear a piece off of. This human calls them “cute” which is at least better than calling them animals, so Minseok gives her a smile that makes her coo at him.

“Are you flirting with someone else in the middle of our date, Kim Minseok?” Dae’s words are stern but he only smells of fondness.

“Yes. It increases my value as a mate if others want me. You should be proud.”

Dae sputters for a while as they walk down the wide path. Minseok laughs at him.

“Where do you get these ideas about mating?”

Minseok shrugs. “Dramas. Nature shows. The way you smell when I do things you like.”

“That whole smelling thing is so unfair.”

“It is,” Minseok agrees, smiling at Dae’s pout. 

He pulls Dae close and sniffs at his cheek, earning more adorable whining. But then he stops, ears up, sniffing the air instead.

“What smells so good?”

Zitao is sniffing the air, too, and Junmyeon looks at them with a bemused expression. “Animal dung? You think that smells good?”

“No,” Zitao dismisses. “Meat.”

Yixing bursts out laughing, pointing to a sign with an arrow up ahead. “It’s the petting barn! Boys, you’re not allowed to eat any of these animals, you know that. Are you going to try to pounce on them if we go in?” He repeats himself in Mandarin, making sure he has Zitao’s attention.

“I am civilized,” Minseok says, but his mouth is watering a little. 

In the end, they don’t go inside the fence. Mostly because the farm animals can smell them, too, and all go to huddle at the far end of their cage. A human in drab-colored clothing comes to their side of the fence, smelling of alarm. He says something to them, and Dae, Junmyeon, and Yixing all use very soothing tones to reply.

“The zookeeper says you’re scaring the animals. We told him you wouldn’t get any closer or make sudden movements to startle them, but that you were curious because you’d never seen farm animals before. So if you have questions, you can ask him,” Dae reports.

“I want to know what animal is what,” Minseok says. “Are any of them a beef?” 

The zookeeper, evidently pleased by their obedience and respectful interest, points out the miniature horses (“usually horses are taller than humans,” Dae says), the goats, sheep, pigs—and shaggy highland cows.

“There are different kinds of all of these animals, just like there are different kinds of dogs and cats. These cows aren’t usually the kind that become steak, not in this country, anyway. But they’re technically the same, like the chihuahua and the police dogs are technically the same,” Dae explains.

Minseok nods, trying to eye the cows without making them more nervous. They’re short-legged and shaggy, and it seems like it would be a lot of work to make one into a steak. Their smell makes him want to hunt them, but their looks make him glad to be able to just go and buy a steak without fur or horns to deal with.

The other animals on this side of the zoo all smell pretty tasty. They’re all different shapes and sizes, some with horns, some with branchy horns called antlers, but all of them have hooves and huddle together at the far end of their big open-topped cages. 

“These are not cats,” Minseok says when they stroll past the fourth cage with skittish hoofed animals.

“Looks like they group them together by type,” Dae says.

Sure enough, the next area has tall cages, with rounded-off tops, that have birds in them, way bigger than any that Minseok had seen flying over his own cage.

Yixing reads a sign in front of the cage while Minseok and Zitao watch a big bird with a white head tear at strips of raw meat hung from a branch.

“This says that all of these birds of prey are here because they were injured and wouldn’t survive if they were returned to the wild,” Yixing says. “I guess they rehabilitate lots of injured birds and release those that they can.”

“Why are they injured?” Minseok asks.

“Hunters, cars, powerlines, storms—it’s a dangerous world out there for wildlife.”

Minseok frowns. “Three of those are caused by humans. If it is a dangerous world for animals, it is mostly your fault.”

Yixing nods. “We tend to take over places, make them the way we want, even if it’s not the way the wildlife want. But at least these people are trying to make up for some of the damage humans cause. And they have these educational displays teaching kids not to litter and encouraging responsible hunting and pest control.”

“Hmm.”

The next area has dogs—wolves and foxes in different colors, most of whom are curled up in their dens. There are cameras so they can still be seen, and they look pretty content sleeping in piles with their families. Minseok’s heart twinges a bit, and he trades a look with Zitao, who suddenly smells a bit sad. Minseok supposes he probably smells a bit sad, too.

Neither of them say anything, but he and Zitao drift closer together, just enough that the other’s scent stays in their nostrils. The scent of another mature male cat hybrid is naturally offensive, and usually they try to avoid being downwind of each other. But for once, Minseok finds Zitao’s thick musk reassuringly familiar, and Zitao seems to feel the same way. Minseok misses the family he was raised in, but he’s very, very happy to have at least found this brother. 

Finally, they reach the big cats. They have huge cages, with rows of screens near the front so that people might still be able to see them. Unlike the dogs, though, several of the cats are out, thick fur enabling them to be comfortable in the cold.

Minseok recognizes the snow leopard immediately. She’s absolutely beautiful, silvery fur with sooty spots that makes him reach to touch his own hair. She gazes unconcernedly at them, half-closed eyes a rather familiar color. She’s lounging on a ledge, thick tail so like Minseok’s own, black tip twitching idly, while her kit is creeping around behind her. Minseok’s lips pull into a smile as the little guy pounces on his mother’s tail, tiny teeth and claws sinking into the fluffy fur before he bounces off again behind a snowy log.

The mother yawns. Minseok presses close to Dae. His own mother was a lynx, so her tail hadn’t been very pounceable. It had been Minseok’s tail that had seen the most pouncing from his siblings, and once from his own mother just to see how he’d react. This mother smells very relaxed, the kit smells excited, and the cage they’re in isn’t at all like the one Minseok had been raised in.

There are no bars, for one thing. Or a top. There are just walls made of concrete but shaped to look like rocky cliffs, and the ground inside the walls is sloped so that it’s impossible for them to jump out. Not that they particularly look like they want to. 

They have lots of perches and ledges so they can be up high, trees and logs to hide behind and sharpen their claws on, there’s a big rubber ball, a huge tire, even a giant cardboard box. Their den is made to look like a pile of rocks, the camera inside it revealing fluffy dried grass all over the floor.

Minseok huffs, drawing a raised brow from Dae.

“Is it sad if I’m envious?”

“Yeah, Min. But not because you’re pathetic or anything. It’s sad that while these people are trying to give these wild animals a nice home, your family— _ people— _ were given so much less.”

“I am still a little sad that they’re in a cage, even if it’s a nice cage. They have way more room than I did, but it’s still not the same as being free.”

“It’s not. But they’re very endangered in the wild, Min. There aren’t many left. So this zoo participates in a breeding program—not like Dollhouse, they’re required to use anesthesia and pain medication for any procedures, and they try to combine procedures so they don’t have to sedate them very often—to try to make more snow leopards so that their descendents can be released back into the wild.”

“Why aren’t there many in the wild?”

“Humans again, I’m afraid,” Dae sighs. “They need a specific habitat, and humans, as a rule, tend to fuck up habitats.”

“Maybe you should stop doing that.”

“Some of us are trying.”

“By making laws?”

“That, and these breeding programs, and buying up wild land specifically to leave it wild, trying to raise local economies so people won’t resort to poaching—illegal hunting—to make a living, lots of things.”

“Is it working?”

“Sometimes.”

“Sometimes” doesn’t sound good enough to Minseok, but the more he learns about humans, the less surprised he is that they don’t take very good care of anyone who’s not themselves. But it seems these zoo people are at least doing their best.

The lynx is also just relaxing on a perch. Its cage has fewer rocks and more pine trees, but otherwise the setups are similar. The lynx is a male with fur more brown than gray, spots smaller than the snow leopard and scattered evenly over the fur instead of clumped into irregular rings. His tall tufted ears are magnificent, and one swivels toward them as they approach. His eyes are bright gold, and he seems to look back at Minseok with just as much curiosity.

As an adult, Minseok can see how his own spots are halfway between the two. But growing up, they’d seemed big and smeared compared to his mother’s and small and messy compared to his snow leopard siblings. He’d felt like he didn’t belong to either kind, and that had hurt. He still doesn’t feel like he belongs to either kind, but he’s more okay with that. He’d love to have his original family back, but for now he has his Dae, whom he chose, and his half-brother, who looks very little like him. Being unique doesn’t feel so much like a burden.

Zitao had been enraptured by the snow leopard kit, but merely gave the lynx a respectful inspection before moving on to the tigers. Now Minseok and Dae stroll to catch up, Minseok looking in wonder at the massive tiger cage. 

It’s three times as big, which is probably because the tigers seem three times as big as the smaller cats that Minseok is kin to. Suddenly Zitao’s height—and Sehun’s, for that matter—make a lot more sense. There are two tigers in the enclosure, one yellow and black and one white and black. They have a ring of water along the inside of their fake-rock walls, though the top is frozen over at the moment. 

Instead of being able to peer down into the walls like the other cat cages, there’s a wooden walkway that goes up and over the tiger cage. There are high wooden railings and a big net that goes under the walkway, but aside from that, the tigers also have no top on their cage. 

They have a lot of trees, currently naked of leaves, and there are fewer high perches and more overhangs, places to crouch rather than to climb. Again, the animals seem idle but content, one dozing, the other grooming itself. 

“If you had a tongue that big, you could lick my hair twice and be done,” Dae says. “Fewer hairballs.”

“I groom you because I want to bond with you,” Minseok points out. “I would want to bond for the same amount of time.”

“I would go bald,” Dae laughs. “But I do like it when you groom me. It makes me feel very cherished.”

“Cherished?”

“Hmm, like, loved and protected. Taken care of. Treasured.”

“Good. That is how I feel when you rub shampoo on me.”

“Good.”

“Can you guys stop being so adorable?” Junmyeon grumbles, but he’s smiling and smelling affectionate. 

“No,” Minseok states, tail swishing to punctuate his refusal. “You are just as bad with Yixing and Zitao.”

“Yeah, well. I hope someday Zitao feels half as strongly about us as we do about him.”

“He has very strong feelings,” Minseok says, eyes on Zitao where he’s hovering over Yixing’s shorter form, almost but not quite touching. “He just doesn’t know how to show them. We were alone for a long time, and he doesn’t want to do the wrong thing and end up alone again.”

Junmyeon blinks. “Wow. He, uh, told you that?”

Minseok shakes his head. “He smells sad and afraid when he’s around you. Like loneliness. But when we talk about our humans, he smells—well. He has strong feelings.”

“Is it because Yixing and Myeon-hyung are super cuddly?” Dae asks. “Does he feel left out?”

Minseok furrows his brow. “Zitao says none of you ever really touch each other except holding hands.”

Junmyeon grimaces. “We’ve been holding back because we  _ don’t  _ want him to feel left out.”

Dae snorts. “Well, now he probably thinks you don’t like cuddling.”

“Or that you want to cuddle, but not with him—if you smell this strongly when you’re with him, but don’t do anything about it, he may think you only have strong feelings for each other, not him.”

Junmyeon scrunches his whole face. “Well, damn. How do we fix that? What made you want to cuddle with Dae?”

Minseok shrugs. “I am not Zitao. Dae is not you. And there is only one of Dae. At the beginning, we said we would touch each other as denmates, but no one would be forced. He is not big enough to hurt me by himself. I felt safe, and it was cold.”

“Okay. So, if we tell him we want to touch him but not in any way he doesn’t like, that we’ll respect boundaries he sets, make him feel safe?”

Minseok shrugs again. “I can scent his body’s signals—I can’t read his mind. But it probably wouldn’t hurt.”

“Well, I appreciate you telling us, about the body signals, at least. Though I feel kind of guilty for going behind his back.”

“It’s not really behind his back. He’s not trying to keep it secret from you—we just forget you can’t smell our signals. I had to learn to tell Dae what I felt—talking about feelings is still weird to me, and I have more vocabularies to use than Zitao does.” 

Junmyeon nods, gazing down at the tigers below. They’ve both moved beneath a snowy overhang, only head and paws visible, sleepily peering out at the small clumps of zoo visitors. One tiger butts its head against the other and gets an ear licked in return.

The sight makes Junmyeon smile. “You know… I think I have an idea.”

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

“Dae, we need a blanket fort, too.”

“I knew you would say that. But then I thought, naaah, my tidy little snowlynx wouldn’t want to disorder all our bedding like that.”

“Dae, we need to make a blanket fort, fuck in it, and then put it all back so we can sleep in our bed properly.”

“Now, see, that sounds much more like the guy I know and love. And also like a lot of work after you go and make me all boneless and sleepy.”

“But they look so cute.”

Jongdae shoots an arm out to grab Minseok’s shoulders and guide him around the light pole he’s about to walk into. He hasn’t yet gotten the hang of looking at the smartphone and walking, and he keeps asking to see the insta photo Yixing posted of himself, Zitao, and Junmyeon all lying belly-down in a smiling row beneath a blanket awning. Zitao’s sandwiched between his doting humans, and they each have an arm around his shoulders. The hybrid looks so bashfully delighted that Jongdae barely recognizes him as the surly, skittish guy his friends had taken home three months ago.

“They’re adorable,” Jongdae agrees. “It’s good to see them happy.”

“Sir, you can’t have that animal loose on the streets.”

Jongdae blinks at the police officer in front of him. “What?”

“All pets must be leash-curbed.”

“You mean Minseok? He’s not my pet.”

“The animal is a stray, then?”

“He’s not an animal, he’s a person, and he’s my sponsored hybrid.”

“Look, buddy, whatever you need to tell yourself. I don’t care if you fuck it, I just need it to be on a leash, got it?”

“Dae? Why is the police mad?”

Jongdae sighs. “He says you’re an animal, so you need to be on a leash.”

“Like a dog?” Minseok gapes, lip twisted in offense.

“Yeah. Sorry—we’ll just go back to the hotel and—”

“Sir, if you don’t comply, I’ll need to call animal control.”

Jongdae turns back to the officer, who’s now holding out a nylon strap with a ring on the end of it, evidently meant to be used as an elongated choke collar/lead combo.

“I am a civilized person,” Minseok says in careful English. 

“Cute trick,” the officer says without a trace of humor. “Now put the leash on it or this situation is gonna have to escalate. Neither of us want that, now, do we?”

Jongdae sighs. “Min, can I just put this around your wrist? Just ‘til we get to the car?” 

Eyes full of betrayal, Minseok holds out his wrist. It’s killing Jongdae to do it, but he takes the slip lead and goes to loop it over Minseok’s hand.

“Sir, that animal needs to be under control. Unless you’re gonna tie its front paws together, that ain’t gonna cut it.”

“He is a person; he has hands, not paws.”

“I don’t care what you call it, just put the leash around its neck and get it out of here.”

“I am not putting a noose around a person’s neck.”

“You’ll leash it or I will,” the officer says, unclipping his stun gun and stepping toward Minseok, another leash in his off hand.

Jongdae steps between them. “What if I carry him?” he asks. “That woman over there has a dog in her arms—it’s not on a leash.”

“Sir, I have given you ample time to comply. Your animal is a public risk. That designer rat is not.”

“You can’t apply the law unevenly,” Jongdae says. “I’m a Special Prosecutor specializing in hybrid law, and this person is a South Korean national. If you try to tase him, you’ll end up tasing me, and that is going to cause an international incident.”

“I don’t fuckin’ care how rich and powerful you are, you have a dangerous animal loose in a public place.”

The fact that Minseok has his hands on Jongdae’s shoulders, claws protruding, teeth slightly bared, ears flat, tail lashing, and a growl rumbling low in his throat is not really helping the situation, but it’s exactly what Jongdae would be doing if he were capable.

“I will charge you with police brutality, unlawful detainment—”

“That’s it, I’m chargin’  _ you _ with 50,000 volts.”

Jongdae turns to embrace Minseok, speaking as quickly as he can, resisting Minseok’s efforts to turn them so he’s between Jongdae and the officer.

“Sorry, Min, this is probably gonna hurt but don’t attack him, don’t attack anyone, I’ll be fine—”

“Hey, what’s going on here?”

“Move along, sir, nothing to see here.”

“Please help,” Minseok says in English, turning his head toward the man who’d stepped out of the pub.

“Officer, why you hasslin’ my pals, here? My good friends, coming out for a bite.”

“Do not interfere with a police officer carrying out his duty.”

Minseok is clinging to Jongdae so tightly that his claws have gone through his gloves, through Jongdae’s puffy jacket, through the sweater beneath, and sunken into Jongdae’s skin. Jongdae doesn’t care, except that he’s afraid that when the taser hits, it’s going to take them both down, and he’s terrified it will prove more dangerous to the hybrid’s system than to his own.

“Min, go in the pub,” he says. “Let go of me and go in the pub.” 

He hopes to fuck that the barman is actually trying to help them instead of take advantage of the situation. He hopes to fuck that Minseok doesn’t try to take the officer out for hurting him. How the fuck did this all go so wrong? They weren’t even near anyone else, not acting threatening— 

Jongdae’s feet aren’t touching the ground anymore. And he’s being carried, despite the officer’s shouts and the crackle of the taser charging up. The the bell over the pub door sounds, then they’re across the threshold.

“Aw, would you look at that? My friends are on private property. If you wanna push your weight around, big guy, you’re gonna need a warrant.”

“I have probable cause. I saw the animal go in there, dragging a human victim.”

“I’m not a victim,” Jongdae calls. “I’m fine, and you wanted him contained. Well, he’s on private property now, no longer a so-called threat to the public.”

“A pub is public accommodation—”

“Except we’re not open yet—just me and my pals, on private property, not botherin’ nobody. I’ve got your badge number, and I’ll be reporting this harassment.”

There's the sound of the pub door clanking shut, then the lock clicking into place.

“Power-hungry dickhead,” the barman says. “Now, what can I get ya? As I said, we’re not open yet, but the fryer’s hot—basket of steak fries? Ale? Cider? On the house, to give you a better impression of Bismarck than that loon.”

“Min, let go,” Jongdae murmurs. “We’re fine, right?”

What Jongdae really means is  _ does this guy smell like an axe murderer _ but that seems rude to say out loud after the barman saved them from being stun-gunned and who knows what else.

“I’m sorry, Dae,” Minseok says, voice small. “I will wear the leash.” He carefully unhooks his claws from Jongdae’s jacket.

“What? No. You have no reason to be sorry. None of that was your fault, okay? Or mine. That guy was just a jerk.” Jongdae turns to the barman, switching on his English and his smile. “Thanks a lot for getting us out of that. I have no idea what a taser would have done to his system, and I wasn’t in a hurry to find out.”

“Those things ain’t even all that safe for anybody,” the barman dismisses. “I’m Leo, and I moved my family here from Chicago to get away from shit like that.” He shakes his head. “Anyway, lemme pour you a drink. I got soda and seltzer if that’s more your thing at this hour of the day—I heard you say you’re a lawyer, so you probably got rules about a liquid lunch.”

“I’m J.D., and it’s my day off,” Jongdae says. “This is Min, and we’re sure as hell not risking running into that officer again on our way back to the car—I’ll call a friend to pick us up. Which means I’m not driving, so, yeah, let’s try some American ale.”

“Got just the thing,” the guy says. “Make yourself at home—bathroom’s down the hall, if ya need it.”

“Thank you.” Minseok’s claws are still poking through his gloves, and while he’s not crying, he’s definitely looking a little red around the eyes. So Jongdae leads him to the men's room, murmuring reassurances the whole way.

“We’re fine, Min. It’s fine. Some people are just looking for a reason to push someone around. It’s not personal—it’s nothing to do with you, okay?” 

Minseok nods, ears still angled back, tail still puffed. “He was going to hurt you, Dae.”

“He wanted me to think so, anyway,” Jongdae agrees, tugging Minseok’s gloves off. “But we’re fine, right? I’ll call Junmyeon, and we’ll eat some steak fries while we wait.”

“Steak?” Minseok’s ears lift slightly.

“Not real steak—they’re potato. You might like them—they’re salty and crispy.” When Minseok doesn’t look all that convinced, Jongdae presses a kiss to his temple. “And when we get home, we’ll make a blanket fort.”

“And fuck in it?”

“And fuck in it.”

Watching the smile bloom over Minseok’s bitten-red lips is totally worth committing to re-assemble their bed post-orgasm. With luck, Minseok will let him have a nap first.

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

Minseok likes Valentine’s Day much better than Christmas. It’s the same thing, really—he gets to give Dae romantic presents—but with a much better reason. He loves Dae, he gives Dae gifts. The traditional gifts are the boring candy and plants, of course, but Baekhyun said he could give his mate whatever expressed his love.

So Minseok’s giving him meat.

_ Fancy _ meat, from a fancy steakhouse where they cook the meat right in front of people at the table, and sometimes they even set it on fire. Junmyeon had told him about it, had gotten him gift cards to give to Dae, which he had gleefully done right after waking Dae up with a blowjob.

Dae said it was already the best Valentine’s Day ever. 

Now they’re walking from the parking lot to the restaurant, hand in hand with his mate, partly for bonding but partly to help Minseok balance. With his tail wrapped around his waist beneath his coat and his ears folded beneath his beanie, nobody in the crowd stares at them. This is good, because there are lots of people and that means there are some police on horses—Minseok has added them to the eye-warily-until-friendliness-is-demonstrated category with dogs. 

Not the horses—they’re big but wary of Minseok, scenting that he’s a predator. They’re much more likely to run from him than try to hurt him. No, it’s the police Minseok’s always on the alert for in crowds, because while, like humans in general, most of them are probably nice, some of them are very much  _ not. _

_ Some _ of them are just jerks.  _ Stupid _ jerks, because if Minseok really  _ were _ a wild animal,  _ just _ a wild animal and not a person, too, he’d have fought that officer, defended his mate, made him bleed for ruining their nice date when they weren’t bothering anyone. But Minseok is civilized, so he’d listened when his Dae told him not to hurt anyone. But he is still part wild animal, so he hadn’t listened when Dae had told him to let him go. He’d carried his mate to safety, to the angry human who smelled fierce.

Minseok likes Leo even though his steak fries have no actual steak in them. They’re still good, and because Leo was so nice, they’ve been back twice since then, once with Zitao, Junmyeon, and Yixing.

But even though he’d made a new friend because of the jerk officer, Minseok still feels uneasy around the police. He does not want to be on a leash and he never wants to be in a cage again. So he pretends to be a human when lots of people are around, because it’s just easier that way.

Minseok understands that these people are ignorant, that they don’t know he’s a person, and that most police would have listened to Dae’s explanation without trying to hurt them. But even though Dae carries a bunch of papers around with them now whenever they go out, Minseok would rather not have to deal with any more police.

No one gives them any hassle tonight as they stroll through the crowds, enjoying the hearts and flowers in the shop windows and all the other couples holding hands. They’re almost all a man and a woman, but there are a few couples that are two women and one other couple that’s two men—Minseok can smell that they’re in love even though they don’t hold hands.

He can also smell something a little strange outside the steakhouse, but he’s so hungry that he doesn’t fully pick up on what it is, distracted by the thick meaty aroma of the restaurant. But an hour later, belly full of steak and heart full of love for his adorable, ridiculous mate, Minseok freezes outside the alley beside the building, tail puffed, eyes searching the darkness near the dumpsters, ears deaf to Dae’s funny story about himself and Baekhyun as kids. All his senses are locked onto the pair of bright gold eyes that shine balefully from the back of the narrow passage, inhaling deeply as he creeps forward on silent feet.

“Min?” Dae asks, sounding far away and rather uneasy. “Is there something— _ holy shit.” _

Dae’s question had been interrupted by a warning snarl that flooded Minseok’s eyes with tears, the sound simultaneously desperate, broken, and achingly familiar along with those autumn-moon eyes.

“M-mom?” Minseok calls out, even though the heart-tangling scent isn’t quite right.

“Holy shit,” Dae says again, clothing rustling before light splashes into the alley from over Minseok’s shoulder.

Minseok doesn’t need it, but it makes the lynx hybrid huddled against the brick squint and hiss and turn her face partially away. It’s dirty and mostly obscured by thick layers of filthy clothing, but the curve of a high cheekbone is enough for Minseok to know he’s not looking at his mother.

Now his heart aches for a different reason as he abandons stealth in favor of speed, rumbling low and reassuring in his chest to counter the girl’s continuing hisses and snarls. She scrambles to her feet and makes a leap for the rungs of the fire escape above her but Minseok pounces on the terrified little thing, pulling her down and into his arms, hands locked around too-thin wrists to keep claws away from his eyes.

“Calm down, little fighter—you know my scent. I’d die before hurting you,” he soothes, but the girl keeps struggling, eyes rolling wide, not similar to his mother’s at all beyond sharing the same luminous color. 

“You know this girl?” Dae’s voice is high and thin. The scent of his wariness stings in Minseok’s nose along with the girl’s acrid fury.

“Dae,” Minseok all but sobs. “My Dae, this is my daughter.”

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ


	8. Chapter 8

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

“Y-your  _ daughter?” _ Jongdae’s voice cracks painfully and he swallows hard, eyes watering as he fights away a coughing fit.

Minseok nods. “Or maybe my half-sister? But you said my oldest was a lynx, barely a teen—”

In a move that brings Jongdae relief and pity, Minseok manages to hold both the girl’s wrists in a single modestly-sized hand, then uses his now-free arm to pull her tight against him, her back against his chest. She twists her head around to snap at him and Jongdae winces in sympathy as she bends a knee and snaps her heel toward Minseok’s groin. But Minseok snarls, a primal, heart-stopping sound, and sets his teeth against the nape of her neck.

The girl goes limp, wild eyes still rolling, fastening on Jongdae as she nearly whispers, “What the fucking  _ fuck?” _

The panicked sentence is in English and Jongdae feels like an idiot. Why had he assumed she understood what they’d been saying? 

“Sorry,” Jongdae immediately responds in the same language. “Man, we probably scared you so bad.”

She gives him A Look that immediately confirms they’re dealing with a teenager.

“But we aren’t here to hurt you—yeah, I know it looks like that but, miss, my friend believes he’s your father.”

The livid teen’s face perfectly conveys a repeated  _ what the fucking fuck _ without additional words.

“I know! Yeah, it looks terrible, two guys attacking you in an alley, God, I’m sorry, I promise we’re not pervs who prey on kids, ugh.” He switches back to Korean to answer Minseok’s raised eyebrow. “She thinks we’re pedophiles about to drag her off.”

“Ped-oh-files?”

“Sickos who want to fuck children.” 

Minseok’s face electrifies with concern and alarm and he spins the girl back around to face him, blocking an attempt to knee him in the junk. “Kitten, no—I would never—you’re not just a kid, we are  _ related.” _

She blinks at the rapid-fire words, then tries to knee him again, leaning in with sharp teeth toward his throat at the same time. 

Minseok socks her in the gut, making Jongdae blink with astonishment. Then he just keeps blinking, because the girl gasps to refill her suddenly-emptied lungs, then she freezes. The filthy, layered clothing she’s wearing twitches in the seat region. Something flutters within the thick knit beanie tugged low over her head.

“Fucking what the— _ Dad?” _

Minseok’s nostrils flare and then he smiles, that boyish, gummy grin. He pulls her close again, an embrace rather than a restraint. She goes readily, pressing her nose against his throat to inhale deeply, again and again. Then her inhalations dissolve into deep, gut-wrenching sobs that wrack her whole body as she slumps bonelessly against him.

“My precious, precious kit,” Minseok croons, tightening his arms and rocking the girl back and forth. “You are safe. No one will hurt you. Not ever again.”

This last is said with a growl but it breaks down into a purr as Minseok tilts his face to press a cheek against the girl’s filthy beanie. He closes his eyes, smile serene, as his daughter— _ his daughter?— _ cries against his neck.

Backing out of the alley a little ways to give them some privacy, Jongdae calls Junmyeon. The ring sounds four times and when the line picks up, he’s expecting to hear the businesslike outgoing message of Junmyeon’s voicemail.

Instead, he gets, “I swear to fucking god, Kim Jongdae—”

Jongdae winces. “Sorry to interrupt, hyung,” he says, using the honorific he knows Myeon likes hearing. “But we have a…  _ situation _ here.”

Junmyeon sighs. “Again? What private property are you hiding in, this time?”

The laugh that escapes Jongdae’s chest is flattened by tension. “None, yet? But we might be about to harbor a runaway?”

“What?”

“I mean we’re definitely about to harbor her, I’m just not sure she’s a runaway—”

“Runaway  _ what?” _

“Hybrid. I’m not sure what kind—I’m guessing lynx because of her eyes and because, hyung—Min thinks she’s his daughter.”

“His what?”

“Or his half-sister, he said. They’re closely related. She looks like she’s been homeless for a fucking long time, hyung, she’s so tiny, her wrists are like twigs and—”

“Kim Jongdae, if this is a fucking prank I will sue you for three counts of felony cockblockery.”

Jongdae laughs, then almost chokes.  _ “Three _ counts?”

“That’s what I fucking said.”

“Hyung!” Jongdae gushes, bouncing on his toes before remembering the situation, darting his eyes to where Minseok’s wiping the girl’s tears, using his limited customer-service English to try to calm her down. “I’m so happy for you all,” he adds in a giddy whisper.

“Well, none of  _ us _ are happy at the exact moment,” Junmyeon grumbles. “Let me put some fucking pants on and I’ll meet you at the prosecutor’s office. You can’t just take her back to your hotel—I don’t want to be defending your heroic ass for hybrid rustling or whatever those Dickhouse idiots will come up with. We’ll draw up writs, swear her into evidence—god I fucking  _ hate _ that—and jump through the right fucking hoops in the hope she doesn’t end up somewhere else that homelessness is preferable to.”

Jongdae’s sigh relieves most of the tension in his chest. “Thanks, hyung. You’re the best. Tell your boys I’m sorry for ruining your night.”

“Ugh, they started sucking each other off as soon as I reached for my goddamn shorts,” Junmyeon huffs. 

“The betrayal.”

“I know, right? They’ll have to double-team my noble, justice-loving ass when I get home.”

“They’d better.”

“Hear that, boys? You have until whenever the fuck in the morning to decide whose face I—”

Conversation clearly not meant for him, Jongdae disconnects, turning back to see Minseok and the girl pressed forehead to forehead. She’s reaching up to toy with one of the sapphires in his ears and he’s rubbing her shoulders.

And it’s that simple. Minseok loves her. So Jongdae does, too. He doesn’t know her name or what her story is, he can’t smell her emotional state or her kinship with Minseok, but it doesn’t matter. 

He knows navigating this situation isn’t going to be easy. He knows love alone isn’t enough to get them out the other side in one piece. But love is a damn good start.

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

Minseok can't believe he has his kit in his arms. His daughter—he doesn’t need to wait for the results of the cheek-swab DNA kits Junmyeon collected, he's more and more sure of it the more her scent fills his nose. And he's so happy to have found another part of his family, to have his young close and safe, to be able to shower her with all the love she deserves.

But his heart is also broken, because his precious child has so clearly suffered. He's proud of her ferocity, cleverness, and tenacity, but so, so sad that she'd had to use them so desperately.

And he's sad that they can't just take her to their den, clean her up, feed her, give her a safe place to sleep. Instead, they have to take her to Dae's work, to meet Junmyeon and get her story, to decide where she should legally be.

Minseok doesn't care what the law says. She's his kit. She belongs with him. He didn't wait this long to find this stolen young just to give her up again.

It's probably just as well Minseok doesn't know enough English to understand most of his daughter's words. It's bad enough that she looks so small huddled in the chair opposite Junmyeon's big wooden desk, tiny hands wrapped around a styrofoam cup of herbal tea. It's bad enough that despite Dae's and Junmyeon's gentle questions and his daughter's quiet answers, their faces grow stonier and stonier in contrast to their increasingly-agitated scents.

"What, Dae?" Minseok asks when he can't stand it any longer. "What's her name? What happened to her? When can we take her home? She's hungry, Dae. She needs a bath."

Dae sighs, long and sad. "She says she's called Amber by the other street kids, because of her eyes. And that she escaped from the man who bought her almost immediately, and she's been living on the streets ever since."

"For seven years?" Minseok gapes. "Since she was just six years old?"

Dae nods.

"Well, she's living with us now, Dae."

Dae shakes his head, looking sick. "Legally she belongs to the person who bought her. She’s supposed to stay here until we contact him and he comes to get her."

“Not supposed to,” Junmyeon puts in.  _ “Has _ to. We’re sworn to uphold the law. We can’t spontaneously pick and choose which to follow. That’s not how this works.”

“Myeon-hyung. We can’t give her over to that sicko—”

“Sicko?” Minseok interrupts, voice low and cold. “Like the kind that wants to fuck children?”

Neither human meets Minseok’s eyes, but neither of them have to. Their queasy scent tells him all he needs to know.

“Did this pedfile hurt my young, Dae? Is that what she said? Why she ran away?”

Even without the accompanying grimaces, their scents again give the truth away without words.

"And you want to give her back to this human?" Minseok roars, making both men flinch away from him as his daughter eyes him with obvious concern.

"We don't  _ want _ to, Minseok,” Junmyeon winces. “It's the law."

"Fuck the law!" Minseok snarls. "I will not allow it."

"I'll file an injunction as soon as the courts open in the morning," Dae says, squeezing Minseok's shoulder. "I'm suing for custody on behalf of the Korean government, ordering a DNA test to prove she's your child. But if her legal custodian shows up before that goes through… well. She’s supposed to go with him."

"No," Minseok snarls again. "He already hurt her once. He's not getting another chance."

"Maybe he won’t come for her,” Dae tries to sooth. “Maybe the injunction will go through before he gets here."

"’Maybe’ isn’t good enough," Minseok spits. "We were taken from the collectors because they hurt us. Why does she have to go back at all?"

"We can't prove he abused her."

"She fucking said he did, right?"

Junmyeon nods, looking sick. "But she doesn't have the legal standing to accuse him, Minseok. And there's no physical evidence—it happened too long ago."

Minseok turns from this overly-obedient human and takes hold of his mate. "Dae. We can't give her back."

Dae shakes his head once, opens and shuts his mouth, eyes flicking between Minseok and Junmyeon.

Junmyeon sighs. "If there were any other legal way, I wouldn't even suggest it, Minseok. But if I commit a crime—if Jongdae commits a crime—we get disbarred, which means we can't help any hybrids—Jongdae can't help  _ you. _ It breaks my heart to suspect that Amber will suffer if we give her to that piece of human garbage, but we can’t prosecute Dollhouse for breaking laws, but break other laws ourselves. We have to work within the system." 

Tears are leaking from Dae’s eyes. Amber is looking like she may follow suit any moment, looking from Minseok’s angry face to the humans’ sad ones, scent flagging her distress at this argument in a language she can’t follow. Minseok wipes Dae’s cheeks with his thumbs and kisses him briefly. Then he crouches beside his little girl—tiny, but almost a woman now, for all that—and regards Junmyeon with what Dae calls his don’t-fuck-with-this-cat expression. 

_ "We _ don't have to work within your stupid human system.  _ You _ have to. I am not sworn to uphold any horrible laws that let young be hurt. If she cannot be safe with us in our home, then I will keep her safe without a home at all. And if that sicko tries to take her—"

_ “Please _ don’t threaten people where federal prosecutors can hear you,” Junmyeon interrupts. “Then I have to report it, just like I have to report this, and, fuck, Minseok—do you think I  _ like _ this situation?”

“No,” Minseok says. “I know you have your rules to follow. And that you believe in changing them rather than breaking them. I respect that path—I am very grateful for all the help you’ve given me. And Zitao. But  _ my _ path involves my young leaving this building under her father’s protection rather than some pedfile’s legal control, and I ask that you respect it.”

“I can’t let you commit a crime—”

“He’s not,” Dae interrupts. “He  _ can’t.” _

Junmyeon looks as confused as Minseok feels. He does  _ not _ want to have to fight his mate to save his young.

“Minseok, by their laws, isn’t a person. He can’t be accused of a crime any more than a goat can. Even if that goat, say, breaks through a fence, and another goat follows along with it.”

Dae is smiling that cat-got-the-cream smile—a dumb name, because cream isn’t all that exciting, but that’s what Baekhyun calls it. And it’s a very Baekhyun-like smile, all bright mischief, scent growing more assured.

“That… they’ll accuse you of failure to control, make you responsible instead.”

“Except that until the Dollhouse case is settled, all the hybrids of Korean descent are listed as wards of the Republic of Korea foremost, individual sponsor provisionally. So if that pedophile wants to come after the ROK for the theft of the hybrid he should never have been sold in the first place, he can go right ahead.”

“We can’t have anything to do with this,” Junmyeon says. “We shouldn’t even be talking about it. But did you know that in America, a citizen can’t be compelled to testify against their spouse, even if they happen to know where they might be or who—or in the eyes of the law,  _ what— _ they may be helping?”

“That’s really interesting, hyung. I’m just going to write Yixing’s phone number down on this scrap of paper so I don’t forget it. Do you have change for the vending machine?”

Junmyeon nods. “I’ll just stack it right here on this piece of paper. And mention, in English, that there’s a payphone two blocks away. Of course, I’ll also say that I can’t allow Amber to go there and call anyone, because she’s supposed to wait here for her legal custodian to pick her up.”

Minseok’s not fully sure what’s going on, but his mate smells of triumph and deception, and even more oddly, so does Junmyeon. He says a few lines in English, causing Amber to cling to Minseok’s arm, claws pricking against his skin.

“Hey, Jongdae. Want to go do some important legal thing in another room with me?”

“Oh yes, I insist on helping you with all important legal things—just let me kiss my mate first, and I’ll be right behind you.”

Dae crouches beside Amber and says some things in English, making the girl nod hesitantly. Dae smiles at her, then stands, tugging Minseok up and into his arms for a fervent embrace.

“My Min. You know I love you, right?”

“Of course I do.”

“And I love that I can always count on you to do the right thing, even when I am bound to do the legal thing.”

“You also do the right thing,” Minseok protests. “You will not let anyone hurt my young.”

_ “You _ will not let anyone hurt your young,” Dae says, then kisses him, deep and claiming but brief. “Yixing and Junmyeon both make way too much money. Don’t feel at all bad about spending a bunch of their cash, okay?”

“O… kay?”

“Okay.” Dae kisses him again. “I love you, even when you’re not with me.”

“I love you, too,” Minseok responds on autopilot. “Dae, am I supposed to go call Yixing?”

“You’re  _ supposed _ to wait right here like a good, obedient, rule-following farm animal.”

Minseok’s lip curls. “I am not a farm animal.”

“Ah, well. You see, that’s what the law says. So of course if I leave a farm animal unattended, it would be way too dumb to figure out how to save the offspring it wouldn’t even care about in the first place.”

“I am not dumb. I love Amber.”

Dae shrugs. “Yet that’s what the law says, so nobody can blame me for treating you like that.” Then Dae kisses him once more and leaves the room.

Minseok turns to his young, whose golden eyes are wary beneath a furrowed brow. "We go," he says to her in English. "I help." He rummages through his list of English phrases, slicing them up and rearranging their parts for new purposes. He gestures to the piece of scrap paper and the coins stacked neatly on top of it. “Hello… friend?”

Amber sits up straighter, eyes big, ears twitching beneath her filthy cap. Minseok wants so badly to groom his young even as his tongue curls away from the task. She says something to him ending in the lifted voice of a question. 

Minseok shrugs. “Uh. We go… hello friend… order help?” he tries.

She nods, hopping out of the chair to grab the money and the phone number. “We go,” she says, holding out her free hand. Despite the layer of grime dulling her skin, Amber’s smile is almost as bright as Dae’s when Minseok takes hold.

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

When Jongdae and Junmyeon finish their important legal business—slowly entering Amber’s information into the evidence logs, typing like arthritic octogenarians—Jongdae is dismayed to hear knocking at the main entrance to the federal prosecutor’s office. Had something happened to Minseok or Amber? Had they understood his not-instructions for what they were?

Except it’s not Minseok or Amber, it’s Yixing. And more surprising, it’s Yixing  _ alone. _

“Xing? What happened? Are you okay?”

“Ah, just my dignity is hurt,” Yixing grumbles with an exaggerated sigh. “Jongdae, you really should have trained your livestock better. I got a prank call from an unknown number, and someone asked for help, said they were two blocks away from here. So of course I was worried—it sounded like a little girl, you know, I thought maybe she’d mis-dialed but used up the last of her change and, gee, I couldn’t leave some poor thing out in the street, you know?”

Junmyeon nods, brow furrowing in sympathy as he ushers his husband into the building. 

“But I’m not stupid, Myeonnie—I took our big strong Taozi with me, you know. In case it was some kind of trap. And it  _ was _ a trap, except Taozi didn’t protect me at all! He listened to Jongdae’s unruly creature—of course I couldn’t understand what mere animals were bleating about—and then! Then he escaped my control—you know he’s much stronger than me—and worse than that, he took all the cash in my wallet! I had just been to the ATM, so it was probably six hundred bucks!”

“That scamp,” Junmyeon says.

“I know! And he took my phone—and the charger, and two battery packs, and my headphones and everything. Then Jongdae’s wicked creature yapped at him again, and this little she-cat they were with did some hissing, just cat noises, how’m I supposed to understand—and then the three of them just ran off!”

Jongdae frowns. “That’s terrible. Especially since—uh. I mean,  _ luckily, _ your phone will be trackable.”

“I suppose, in theory,” Yixing says. “But, you know, with my family all in China still, I never switched my phone to an American company. I mean, Chinese cell carriers have deals with US carriers, so they have good coverage here, but not the other way around, and I travel so much it seemed like the best thing to do.”

“They could still track it.”

“Ah, but they’d have to get permission and cooperation from the Chinese carriers,” Yixing says mournfully. “And I doubt they’ll agree to help the US spy on two hybrids that are the legal property of the PRC—unless they agreed to remand them immediately into PRC custody.”

“Wait,  _ two?” _

“Yeah, I mean. Obviously I don’t  _ know _ because livestock just make barn animal noises, but it certainly seemed that the little she-cat understood our sweet Taozi better than she did Jongdae’s little pet. So her mother probably, I dunno. Came from the same place Tao’s did or something.”

Yixing ducks his chin and blinks up at both lawyers, despite the fact that he’s taller than both of them and shouldn’t be able to do that. “Please, you men of the law look smart and helpful. Surely you can find my poor lured-away hybrid. Do you think they’re smart enough to actually use my phone? I mean, it’s not like any of them can read or anything.”

Jongdae’s cheeks are hurting from the intensity of his smile. “Xing. I love you so much.”

“I am already married, handsome sir,” Yixing sniffs. “But your attention is flattering just the same, I suppose.”

Then his full lips suddenly tug into a pout. “Myeonnie, we never got to finish! You better find my pretty kitty before too long. Our White Day plans were supposed to be very white, indeed!”

“It shouldn’t take longer than a week to contest custody—er. To track down your missing hybrid, dear sir. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, let’s go file a police statement about these traumatic events.”

That night, alone in his hotel bed, Jongdae feels Minseok’s absence like a weight on his chest—or rather, a distinct  _ lack _ of weight on his chest. Still, he goes to sleep with a smile on his face.

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

Minseok didn’t think he’d ever fall asleep tucked up in the eaves of a little-used underpass, daughter curled against his chest, brother pressed warm against his back. He misses Dae like a song stuck in his head with lyrics he can’t quite grasp, just a melody of love repeated over and over with mere snippets of words, constant but unsatisfying.

Still, he wakes up with a smile on his face, because the scents of sleepy cats surrounding him are those of his family. His  _ family. _ A stolen offspring, returned to him by chance and kept with him by deliberate action. And a brother he’d never known, now a man he can rely on.

If his mate were beneath him instead of the cement pilings, life would be perfect.

Of course, his Dae would find the idea of sharing a bed with three hybrids to be more than a little invasive. And Dae has obviously never had to huddle tight for warmth—that tiny human takes up a huge portion of the bed, arms and legs all spread out, so Minseok would hardly have a choice but to sleep half on top of him. So it’s good that’s where Minseok prefers to be.

But for now he’s content to be the filling of this sandwich, keeping his young warm and tucked deepest inside their makeshift shelter, farthest away from the biting wind. The sleeping form huddled against his front is so tiny, but his kit is so strong. The jut of her chin as she’d waited with him in the phone booth, the way her claws are out even in her sleep. The way she’d reeked of unease when Minseok had spoken to Yixing but still taken the phone when Minseok had handed it to her. The way she’d smiled back slightly when an hour later, Yixing had shown up in person and crouched before her, face sympathetic, dimples on display.

"She's definitely your kid, Min," Yixing had chuckled after introducing himself to Amber. "Such fire in those eyes. Her name really suits."

"Really? What's an amber?" Minseok had asked, pronouncing the English word carefully.

"A precious stone, the same color as her eyes. The leaders of a country called Russia had a whole room made out of it centuries ago for one of their palaces—very valuable." Yixing had tilted his head and his smile had renewed. "Actually, 'Min' can be interpreted to mean 'jade,' which is also a precious stone, usually green. I've definitely seen jade the frosty shade of your eyes. I wonder if that was your mother's thought when she named you."

Minseok had swished his tail, pleased to hear of this shared trait even if it's entirely coincidental. "She is precious," he’d agreed. "I am glad her name is something nice."

Yixing had spoken to Amber in English, tone low and soothing, keeping his face soft even as his scent had flared with anger. 

Ever the actor, Yixing had controlled his expression and claimed—in alternating Korean for Minseok and English for Amber—that he needed their help with a script he was thinking about writing.

“So the basic idea is that these people are going into hiding for a while, right? And so this one guy gives them a backpack full of supplies…”

Minseok had listened attentively, fully aware of the game by then. The humans must follow human laws, but some human laws are dumb. Therefore, they’re helping Minseok keep his daughter safe by pretending they’re not helping him, so they can tell the human judge that they didn’t do anything wrong. Then Dae can still use the good human rules to protect hybrids, and Minseok will protect his daughter in the meantime, with Zitao’s help.

Nobody will ever hurt his little girl again.

Zitao is just as dedicated to keeping Amber safe, even if he had hung back initially, lip curled as his nostrils had flared. He’d lingered near Yixing’s car, wrapped in a big fluffy blanket he’d just happened to be wearing like a surprisingly-fashionable cape.

“She can’t help being dirty,” Minseok had chided. He didn’t love the thick stench surrounding his kit, either, but at that point Yixing hadn’t yet produced a package of moist, soapy wipes and given Amber some privacy with Tao’s blanket in the back seat of the car so she could clean herself up as best she could. “Zitao, meet Amber, my kit—your niece.”

At that, Zitao had leaned closer, inhaled deeper despite the unpleasantness. And then his eyes had gone wide and he’d stepped closer, asking Yixing a question in Mandarin that Minseok hadn’t understood.

But Amber had. She’d answered Zitao’s question herself, albeit in English, stunning Yixing who’d only been able to blink at her for a moment before grinning wide. He’d asked a few more questions in Mandarin before switching back to English, causing Zitao to snort at Minseok’s perplexed expression.

“Her mom Chinese,” Zitao had explained, laughing when Minseok rolled his eyes at the statement of the obvious. “She forget lots,” Zitao had continued. “Her English better.”

Minseok smiles to himself where he’s tangled in his family. They share many traits, but full command of a common language isn’t one of them. But at least Minseok knows a little English and Amber remembers a surprising amount of what Yixing had called “kindergarten Mandarin,” so the three of them manage to make themselves understood to each other with simple words and demonstrative gestures. It really helps that they can mostly scent each other’s attitude, a task made easier and far more pleasant by Amber’s backseat grooming session.

The sweatsuit she’d changed into after that had been Junmyeon’s, and while it’s comically large for her, it’s still much warmer than the rags she’d been wearing. She’d also borrowed thick socks and a set of old rubber-soled slippers from Junmyeon, then scarfed the fast-food hamburgers she’d “found” unattended in the backseat so fast Minseok was afraid she’d choke.

So while Minseok may be once again sleeping on cold concrete in winter, he’s much more content than he had been this time last year. His daughter is reasonably clean, dressed warmly, and well fed. They have a backpack full of food and supplies, and even a way to contact their humans in case of emergency. Minseok has Yixing’s phone in his pocket, turned off to save the battery. They’re to turn it on a few times per day to see if any text messages have appeared—they’ll be in Korean, since even though Zitao has been learning, Minseok’s the only one of the three that can read well enough. And when one comes through saying it’s safe for them to come home, they’ll call and tell the humans where they are, and then they can all have baths and sleep in real beds again. 

Minseok can’t wait. He hadn’t missed living like this, and he really, really misses his mate.

But they’ll be all right in the meantime. Amber’s been on her own for seven years. She knows how to stay unnoticed by humans in this city and how to stay undetected as a hybrid when she does interact with them. She’d laughed when the two adult males had told her they’d just go wherever she usually went, hide wherever she usually hid, pointing out the differences in their frames. But evidently in winter she’d occasionally shelter with other street kids, so she’d lead them to one such larger hideout, and that’s where they’re currently curled up.

It’s almost cozy. It’s snowing outside, but they’re well sheltered where they are, especially with Zitao’s blanket blocking the worst of the wind. They don’t have to go out and forage for food, since the backpack has plenty of jerky and some bottles of water they can refill with snow that’ll melt from the heat of their bodies. It’s almost like the human ‘sleepovers’ he’d seen on TV, or a thing called ‘camping’ that the TV hybrids seem to enjoy doing. It seems to remind them that they’re part wild animal instead of merely pets for humans.

Minseok could never forget that he’s two wild animals—his animal heritage is as much a part of him as his human features. He is both wild and civilized, fierce and gentle, beast and person. He’s angry at cruel humans and stupid laws, but has no problem with humans in general. He’s rather attached to a few of them (and  _ really _ attached to one in particular). 

And that human is really attached to Minseok, too. Dae will fight for Minseok, fight for Amber, make sure she’s safe, make sure she gets to stay with them or at least in a nice home with humans that will be kind to her, not abusive. 

The thought is enough for Minseok to start purring. He may be separated from his mate, but they’re still working together. Humans may be separate from hybrids, but surely they can work together, too, and make rules that protect everyone.

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

“I totally called it—Amber’s buyer, one Archibald K. Gaines, wants us charged with felony livestock rustling.”

“Ah, does he?” Jongdae leans over the conference table to claim a few more steak fries from the communal basket in the center. Minseok loves the thick sticks of potato, even though they’re not meat at all despite their name. The thought of his mate makes Jongdae achingly determined to quickly succeed at his half of this daughter-rescuing mission. Then he’ll delight in presenting both father and kit with all the fries—and meat—they can eat. 

In the meantime, he and his colleagues are stuffing their own faces with Leo's pub food in one of the meeting rooms in the federal prosecutor’s office, because Yixing, no longer having a hybrid on hand to fuss over, has decided that lawyers and social workers with penchants for working around the clock are his next caretaking target. Not that Jongdae’s really complaining—lunch magically appearing at the office just as he’s starting to get hungry is something he very much appreciates. 

“Well,” Jongdae says between bites. “It must be frustrating for him to be informed by his lawyer that we obeyed the letter of the law in our efforts to admit the stray hybrid into evidence and place her into proper custody.”

Junmyeon nods, swallowing his mouthful of cheeseburger. “Yep. Gaines tried to file a writ of  _ habeas corpus _ for her, but of course that can only be filed for a person.”

Jongdae suppresses a grin around a sip of his soda.  _ Habeas corpus _ writs are designed to compel whoever is holding a person in custody to produce them and justify the reasons for detainment. He would have loved to file one on behalf of the Dollhouse hybrids under US law, but one can’t file such a writ for federally-uncategorized beings that the state considers mere livestock. 

“And the one ‘holding’ Amber isn’t even servable with a writ,” he states solemnly. “Gaines must be having a rough day.”

“Indeed. So now he’s gotten a Korean lawyer with the idea to charge Minseok directly under Korean law for rustling.”

Baekhyun snorts. “Ah, because in the ROK, demihumans can be held responsible?” He gestures with a ketchup-dipped fry. “But the law must be applied evenly—if Minseok’s a sentient demihuman rather than livestock, so is Amber.”

“Yeah, he’s had to change it to kidnapping, of course,” Junmyeon says, snagging a few more fries himself. “His lawyer has advised against it, but he’s pretty set on proceeding.”

“Well, he’s welcome to try,” Jongdae growls. “If he does, we’ll file a writ of  _ habeas corpus _ under Korean law, and that would only lead to Amber being determined to belong to the ROK, anyway.”

“That’s the tricky bit, actually,” Junmyeon sighs. “Amber’s mother was indeed Chinese, which means the writ might just as easily be answered with determination that she’s a Chinese national. And with this scumbag’s deep pockets, I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to push the trial in that direction, then re-purchase Amber from China.”

Baekhyun furrows his brow. “Why is Gaines so set on getting her back? If he’s into little kids, she’s probably outgrown his sick proclivities anyway.”

“Oh, because chatting with Amber revealed she did not give up her innocence easily. She said he’d bound her hands behind her back and muzzled her, but he didn’t bind her legs—probably too eager to spread them. Being a squirmy, flexible little thing, she clawed the literal fuck out of him with her toes.”

Smiling at their expressions of gleeful horror, Junmyeon continues. “I subpoena’d Gaines’s medical records under the guise of wanting to corroborate or disprove ‘reported events from an anonymous source’ consistent with child abuse. His lawyers were all too eager to comply and prove beyond a doubt that a human child was not involved, threatening to countersue for libel if any such claims reached public ears.” 

He grins. “Turns out that not even two hours after he’d purchased her, paramedics were called to a seedy motel across town from where we found Amber. He reported that he’d gotten a new pet wildcat and had attempted to make friends with it, but the beast lunged for his groin before jumping out a second-story window.”

Baekhyun almost chokes on his soda. “And they bought that? Surely the injuries weren’t consistent with a typical animal attack. I mean, she couldn’t have bitten him, and surely they could deduce that all the claw marks were made by a creature pinned supine under him, right? The damage must have been highly localized if she could only use her feet.” His face is firmly set into Mandated Abuse Reporter mode, always ready to analyze a hybrid’s “incidental” injuries for signs of mistreatment.

“There aren’t forensic diagrams, but based on the written records it’s pretty clear she shredded him from navel to knees—he ended up losing a testicle and needing reconstructive genital surgery. If her claws had been a few millimeters longer, she’d have severed his femoral artery and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Jongdae’s gape of shock has completely morphed into a smile. “Wow. Good for her. But, damn—that means his motives for regaining custody are likely to be revenge-based instead of merely sexual perversion. If he does get ahold of her, he’s likely going to kill her, and probably not at all humanely.”

“That does seem fairly certain.” 

“Well, fuck.” Jongdae rakes his fingers through his hair.

“If that weren’t bad enough, Gaines has hired teams of tracking dogs to look for the three ‘at large’ hybrids. If he finds them, he’ll probably shoot Min and Tao before torturing and killing Amber. And the only punishment he’ll face in this country is having to make financial restitution and possibly a fine of some kind for inhumane disposal of livestock. Even under Korean law, the worst he can be charged with is wrongful death of a demihuman. Under the Vicious Hybrid Act, it’s not murder if she attacked him first, no matter how many years ago it was or her age at the time.”

“She’s hardly a ‘vicious hybrid,’ and Gaines attacked  _ her _ first,” Jongdae protests. “And he said it was a wildcat, not a hybrid. If we can’t prove he assaulted her first, then he can’t claim it as fact that Amber was the one responsible for his injuries.”

“Ah, but of course, Gaines is human so his word will be given weight over Amber’s, and in this state, calling her merely a ‘wild cat’ isn’t incorrect. If he finds her before Korean nationality is firmly established, he can report it as a legal hunt of an invasive species, or of an escaped, dangerous animal, or all sorts of bullshit. And Min and Tao won’t give her up without a fight—Gaines will be able to easily claim self-defense for shooting them, even if they never touch him. Their bodies will be proof enough that he found them sufficiently threatening to fear for his life.”

Remembering the taser incident, Jongdae swallows down the sudden rise of bile in his throat. “We need to get them out of here.”

“That will be difficult,” Junmyeon sighs. “I’ve requested expediting on the paternity test, but Minseok has no parental rights in this country and now that custody is contested, we can’t transport Amber out of this country until it's settled. Even if this case ends up in front of a Korean judge, they’d just send you and Minseok home to face trial, leaving Amber legally in the custody of Gaines until his claim is overruled.”

“She won’t live that long,” Jongdae mutters. “So, we can’t establish nationality without producing Amber and Minseok for the courts. But we can’t produce them, because Amber will be killed. And we can’t just leave them in hiding because Gaines is having them tracked down. We need them in protective custody of some kind, somewhere Gaines can’t buy his way into.”

“Fuck this shit,” Junmyeon growls. “What we  _ need _ is for hybrids to have basic rights, to be protected against things like rape and abuse. To be able to keep their families together without being sold off piecemeal, to at least fucking  _ know _ what happened to the family members that get taken from them.”

Baekhyun snaps his fingers. “What about another video? Or a news segment, something to put the spotlight on Gaines and people like him so they can’t justify their actions with the “not human, not like us” defense. The Christmas one got a lot of attention but it was easily dismissed by detractors as either being fake subs or as being trained responses, like parrots. How can we show that Minseok and Amber are truly sentient?”

“It needs to be live,” Junmyeon states. “So they can’t claim cuts or edits or other tricks. They need to be interviewed by a trusted reporter who otherwise has no vested interest—”

“What about that guy Kai?” Baekhyun blurts. “The really cute guy that’s like a model or something? You know, his parents are Korean but he was born here, has American citizenship, but he’s fluent in Korean so they sent him over to report on the Olympic games in Seoul?”

“Oh, I remember him,” Jongdae smiles. “He’s gorgeous, plus his segments were so entertaining, they got played as part of the Korean coverage, too. He does a great job of essentially speaking two languages at once, both having a conversation and translating it in real time.” 

Junmyeon squirms. “Well. Never have I been so glad not to have fucked someone—Yixing never managed to actually meet Kai—that’s his modeling name, his birth name’s Kim Jongin—thanks to conflicting schedules. He’s probably the hottest American celeb my husband hasn’t managed to seduce for us.”

“Kind of you to leave some for the rest of us,” Baekhyun huffs.

“Oh, whatever—it’s not like once we sleep with them, no one else is allowed,” Junmyeon laughs. “And you don’t actually want anyone in your bed that’s not your Tae.”

“It’s the principle of the thing.”

“The principle of the thing,” Jongdae cuts in, “is to fucking  _ save three hybrids _ from being shot like mindless, vicious beasts.”

The banter dies into pensive shuffling of fast food containers. “Right,” Baek says. “So how do we get a live interview with Kai without exposing the hybrids to potential danger?” 

“What about a church?” Jongdae suggests. He’d been raised Catholic, but as an adult, working long hours took precedence over going to mass. Earthly laws had come to mean more to him than heavenly ones, though he comforts himself with the idea that perhaps by insisting on justice and mercy for all people, he’s still working on the side of the angels.

Junmyeon tilts his head. “Legally, there’s no such thing as religious sanctuary anymore. But there’s still a tradition of respect—at the very least, it’s extremely unlikely that Gaines or his goons would actually try to shoot a hybrid inside a church. They might demand that the law apprehend them somehow, via arrest or animal control or something, thus starting the process that will end with Amber remanded to his custody pending legal contest.”

“What about a reservation?” Baekhyun asks. “There are still a lot of Dakotas in the Dakotas, right? And aren’t they technically a sovereign nation?”

Junmyeon grimaces. “Yes, but the laws there are so tangled. And when it comes to criminal law, the criteria are drawn based on who the victim is and who the alleged perpetrator is. Since nobody involved in this case is a member of a tribe, reservation authorities are to transport those involved in a dispute off the reservation and to the proper authorities, which just bounces them back to us. Same with religious communities, like the Amish."

Junmyeon sighs, upturned lips directing his exhale to ruffle the hair on his forehead. "This is _ our  _ problem to resolve… somehow.” 

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ


	9. Chapter 9

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

“Cal-li-for-ni-ah?” 

Amber nods, then speaks slowly in English, sometimes in Mandarin, gesturing and drawing little explanatory sketches with the notepad and pencil that had been tucked into the backpack of supplies Yixing had “not” given them. She draws a long car with many windows, like the busses the hybrids had been taken from the collectors in.. 

It takes time for Amber to make herself understood, as with any idea more complicated than basic bodily needs or simple filial affection. But eventually Minseok gets that she wants the three of them to hide their hybrid features and use the cash in the backpack to pay a bus to take them to another place, somewhere she believes hybrids are free, somewhere she had wanted to go for a long time except she can’t read the signs at the place busses park, isn’t sure which one to use, and the one time she gathered enough courage to ask a human in a window about it, she was told it would cost a lot of money and Amber had never had much cash at all.

Minseok exchanges looks with Zitao. He doesn’t want to go farther away from Dae, but if hybrids truly are free there, if he can get his little girl there, she might be safe from the sicko that wants to hurt her. He wants to use Yixing’s phone to ask Dae what to do, but Yixing had said that contacting them outside of a life-threatening situation might put them  _ into _ a life-threatening situation, as the humans had to deny being in contact with the hybrids and Yixing’s phone was supposedly stolen.

Zitao touches the turned-off phone in Minseok’s hand that he toys with whenever he feels anxious, unsure, alone despite having his family beside him. “Yixing say. Phone here, here, here.” Zitao points in random directions. “We go? We help, we phone.”

Shrugging, Minseok nods. They have food, they won’t let anyone close enough to them to discover they’re not human, and if they really get lost, they can call for help as a last resort. Besides, there have been dogs barking in the distance for three nights in a row, and last night they didn’t sound all that distant anymore. Minseok has no idea if they’re good or bad human dogs but they make him nervous nonetheless. 

The busses all have dog pictures on them, too, as does the building Amber leads them up to. She turns on the charm, chatting brightly with the human behind the window, then slides almost all their money through a slot and gets some tickets in return. 

“Wait morning,” Amber says in English. “Then bus.”

They spend the rest of the day on the roof of a building near the bus park, having climbed the fire escape impulsively when they’d heard dogs barking nearby. Amber dislikes dogs even more than Minseok, scrambling up any nearby vertical surface to get herself out of their reach even when they’re small and wearing sweaters. Sometimes that vertical surface happens to be Minseok or Zitao themselves, but thankfully the girl isn’t a very heavy surprise burden.

Lots of dogs bark that night, some seemingly right below the building they’ve sheltered on top of. It has Amber hissing softly and pressing against his side, claws out even in sleep. Zitao curls around her, his solid frame at her back, and finally she sleeps, bracketed by her protectors.

In the morning, it reeks of dog all around their building, giving Minseok an uneasy feeling deep in his gut. They hurry to the bus park, where thankfully it’s just a matter of matching—lining up the English letters on the tickets with the ones on the screens above the bus windows, comparing the numbers, and continuing to follow Amber’s main instructed for life on the street among humans—stay alert, but act like you belong there.

So they stroll confidently through the busses, and when a human with a fancy outfit comes up, Amber just smiles and hands him the tickets. He looks at them, then points off in a direction, handing the tickets back with a smile and a tip of his hat. Amber smiles back and waves, then drags them over to the right bus (or so Minseok hopes). There are several humans on it already, but none of them say anything as the three of them shuffle to the back of the bus where they can all sit together, Amber once again sandwiched between them. 

Minseok still can’t shake that uneasy feeling, and it only grows when he sees two men begin walking through the bus park, one with a long gun like the ones the collectors used to shoot drugs into the hybrids. The other holds leashes connected to a pair of big dogs with dangly ears and loose, floppy lips. The dogs are sniffing along the ground between barking, not the  _ woof woof _ of the police dogs but a long, wavy sound that makes the hairs on the back of Minseok’s neck stand up.

It must do the same thing to his companions, because the air suddenly reeks of alarm. A human nearby makes a noise of disgust, then starts complaining to her companion. Amber stiffens slightly against Minseok, tiny fingers slipping over to tangle with his own.

“What?” Zitao asks softly in Mandarin.

“Lady say…” Amber begins in the same language, then huffs in frustration, digging in the backpack resting on the floor at Minseok’s feet. She pulls out the notepad, then draws, pencil strokes sharp and quick. A stick man, two stick animals with long ears, heads down. If the resemblence wasn’t good enough, Amber gestures out the window with the pencil, then taps the page. 

On either side of her, Zitao and Minseok nod.

Amber draws another stick man, something long in his hand. Then she draws three stick figures together, one tall, one shorter, the third shorter yet, all with pointy ears on top of their heads and the two taller ones with long tails.

“Us,” Amber says in Mandarin. “Lady say, dogs smell us. They look, then—” Amber draws a line from the long object in the second man’s hands, making a quiet explosive noise with her mouth. The pencil line slashes over to the group of three hybrids—them—and then Amber scribbles out all the figures, leaving a layer of pencil thick enough to shine on the page. 

“Hunting,” Minseok says in his own tongue. “They’re hunting us?” He keeps his voice low despite his shock, knowing that even with the muffling of their knit caps, his family’s sensitive ears will pick up his words.

Amber shrugs, eyes locked on the men and dogs. They’d stopped to talk to the humans behind the glass windows, now they’re walking through the rows of busses, the dogs tugging the human along behind. They must be following their scent, because they zig and zag around and between the busses just as they had.

Minseok squeezes Amber’s hand. “We human,” he assures her in Mandarin. “We go here.” 

Amber smiles. “Belong,” she corrects in English.

Minseok nods. “Yes,” he answers in the same language. “We belong.”

The men with the dogs evidently  _ don’t _ belong, however. Or at least, their gun doesn’t—one of the uniformed humans waves his hands at that man and tries to take the gun away. The man resists, and they begin arguing as the one with the dogs keeps weaving between the busses, closer and closer until the dogs are heading straight for the one the uniformed man had told them would take them to this Cal-li-for-ni-ah.

Amber tenses, reeking of terror. Minseok squeezes her hand tightly. He curves his free hand around her face, directing those golden eyes toward his face instead of the window.

“We belong,” Minseok insists softly in the English his daughter understands best.

She nods. Then her eyes shoot to the front with everyone else’s when the bus driver shouts. 

He stands up, still shouting, using his body to block the loud sniffy dogs from coming onto the bus. The man holding them shouts back, but one of the passengers starts sneezing. His companion begins shouting, too, and the bus driver renews his efforts to push the dogs out of the doorway. The rest of the passengers join the shouting, and the dog man pulls the dogs away. 

The bus driver shuts the doors, turning to address the passengers, seeming particularly attentive to the sneezing man. The sneezing man’s companion smiles but waves off the bus driver’s attention, and the driver returns to his seat.

The trio of hybrids jump when the driver’s voice comes over speakers, staticky and loud. When he stops talking, the bus engine rumbles, drowning out the dogs still barking outside. There’s a pounding on the door and Minseok cranes his neck—the man with the gun, now without the gun, is hitting it with his fists.

But the bus driver shakes his head, driving the bus slowly at first, the men and dogs running along beside for a few paces. They drop back as the bus speeds up, and Minseok watches as they’re left behind, Amber’s claws pricking into the hand her fingers are wrapped around.

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

“They did  _ what?” _

Baekhyun grins as Jongdae blinks stupidly at Junmyeon. 

“According to the tracker, the hybrids’ trail led to a bus headed for Minneapolis, but the driver wouldn’t let them on. A passenger was allergic to the dogs or something. So they’re requesting that Minneapolis animal control be waiting at the station to ‘contain these dangerous animals and return his rustled livestock.’”

“Well, fuck.”

“Indeed. Gaines is trying to inflame paranoia by claiming hybrids could be anywhere, passing for human, that all public transport passengers should be required to remove their caps for security reasons, that TSA has failed, et cetera, et cetera.”

Jongdae’s heart is in his throat. “And?”

“Minneapolis District Attorney is holding the line that livestock cannot rustle other livestock, that he’ll entertain the claim that the hybrids are ‘escaped animals at large’ but that he needs more than Gaines’ say-so before he subjects citizens to a strip search to prove their humanity. He wants Gaines to submit proof of legal ownership.” 

“Then let’s submit our claim of nationality to counter, delay the paperwork.”

“Already done,” Junmyeon says. “In any case, Minnesota’s DA won’t “contain” Minseok or Zitao as Gaines has no claim of ownership, and further suggested that—” Junmyeon reads from the page in his hand. “‘If these hybrids purchased tickets for public transportation, boarded said transportation among other passengers, and dressed and behaved in a manner making them indistinguishable from human passengers, then North Dakota may wish to reevaluate their classification of these ‘dangerous animals’ as livestock,’ adding that their dissimilarity to other livestock means they should either ‘be subjected to far further restrictions if they truly are dangerous, or granted far further liberties if they truly are so close to human.’”

“Huh,” Jongdae says. “Progressive or power-hungry?”

“Who cares, as long as they’re a pain in Gaines’s ass?” Baekhyun grins. 

“The downside is that Gaines’s Korean lawyer is now moving to file felony kidnapping charges against Minseok, since they’re about to cross state lines with a minor.”

“He can’t keep playing both sides of this,” Jongdae growls. “Either they’re people or they’re not—fucking pick a country, pick a stand and stick with it.”

“Eh, the more they waffle, the scummier they look—the media on both sides is having a field day.”

“The story leaked?”

“Gaines leaked it. He wants the public’s help in returning his ‘beloved pet.’”

“Did he leak the part about how this ‘beloved pet’ nearly tore off his junk?”

“That was a rather conspicuous omission,” Baekhyun smirks.

“Too bad  _ we _ can’t leak that. I suppose the office is toeing the ‘we can’t discuss an ongoing case’ line instead.”

“Of course. We don’t break rules, we change them. As Minseok said, this is our path.”

Jongdae lets a smile tug at his lips despite the crease of stress still furrowing his brow. “And Min is following his.”

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

Minseok is beginning to be slightly unnerved by how well his kit can coax humans into helping her out. The bus driver had only taken one ticket from each of them when they got on the bus, so they expect him to ask for another when they get off. Minseok thinks perhaps the third one is one of those  _ receipts _ Dae always makes sure to keep from the food places they go to.

But nobody else gives the driver anything when the bus stopped and they all file out the front. When Amber translates the driver’s announcement that the bus would be leaving again in fifteen minutes whether they were aboard or not, he exchanges confused glances with his family.

“This is not Cal-li-for-ni-ah?” Minseok asks. 

Zitao shrugs, but Amber turns to the driver, chatting with him briefly. Then she rears back, scent flaring with surprise. She thanks the driver and gets off the bus, so Minseok and Zitao follow suit.

“Bathroom,” Amber says in Mandarin when they’re no longer blocking the doorway. “Come back quickly.”

When they’re once again settled in their back row and Minseok has passed a bag of jerky around, Amber starts sketching on the notepad again. She draws the bus, then an arrow pointing at a dot. “Minneapolis,” she says. She draws two busses, then an arrow from one to the other. “Ticket.” Then she draws another arrow to another dot. “Kansas City.” She points back to the drawing of the pair of buses. “Ticket.” A third arrow, a third dot. “Los Angeles—California.” 

She gives them a wry expression, drawing an arrow from the very first bus all the way to the last dot. “Three days.”

Zitao looks as astonished as Minseok feels, but it’s nice to hear his kit laugh and laugh, even if it’s at his expense.

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

“If you wear a groove in the floor, they’ll probably deduct it from my pay,” Junmyeon says, tone half joking, half sit-the-fuck-down-Jongdae-for-fucks-sake.

Jongdae winces, forcing himself into the very chair Amber had huddled in a week ago. “Sorry, hyung.”

“I understand that you’re unsettled—my Tao is out there, too. But I’m trying to remember that, while still a bit naive when it comes to the human world, Zitao and Minseok are grown adults with bright minds. And Amber, while barely a teen, is similarly bright and not naive at all.”

An amused huff slithers from Jongdae’s throat. “I know it’s ironic that Min and Tao are out there roaming around free of any cages and it’s me that’s pacing like a captive tiger.”

“They’re fine, Dae.”

“We don’t know that. Nobody’s reported seeing a young Asian teen girl travelling with two Asian men, despite Gaines’s pleas. And while I’d like to believe it’s because the rest of America isn’t scummy like he is, it’s much easier to believe it’s because they’re not out there to see.”

“Except we haven’t released their photographs, and the one Gaines has from when he purchased her is seven years out of date. If you were looking for a teenage girl and saw Amber in a beanie and a sweatsuit, would you think you’d found one?”

“...No.” Not that Amber isn’t pretty or feminine, but she had short hair that would be entirely hidden by her cap, and had been so skinny as not to have any hint of any curves at all, much less the feminine ones that may or may not be developing if she were better fed.

“And Minseok doesn’t look his age. They all probably look like teenagers to most people. And all bundled up, the only thing truly remarkable about them is their eye colors, which might get them noticed but not necessarily pegged as Asian or as hybrids depending on how good a look someone gets. If someone were looking for a trio of eerily-attractive teen boys, they’d be far more likely to clock them, but all Gaines has is that they’re male and Asian and ‘his’ hybrid is female.”

He leans forward over the desk to take Jongdae’s hand. “Trust them to take care of themselves. They’re out of North Dakota on their own power, and it’s not really important if they’re in Minneapolis or took a different bus somewhere else. They have cash, food, and a phone, Dae-yah. They will respond when we text them.”

“And when will that be?”

“Well, the paternity test should be back in a few days, but that will only help us win a nationality declaration. That alone won’t prevent Amber from being remanded to her current legal owner’s custody until the dispute is settled. That could take months, depending on appeals or counter-claims.”

Jongdae lets out a growl his mate would surely be proud of. “I hate jumping through all these fucking hoops! Amber is a person! People have rights! Why can’t we just—”

Jongdae’s phone rings.

The caller ID is reporting Unknown Number. He scowls down at it, sure that he’s about to hear something else that will continue to ruin his day. Another person claiming ownership of a Dollhouse hybrid, some dumbass trying to sell him something, or worst of all, some local LEO having picked up his Min—or Min’s body.

He picks up the device with shaking fingers, sliding his thumb across the screen to accept the call.

“This is Kim Jongdae.”

“Dae?” 

Jongdae’s heart stops. “Min?”

“Dae! My Dae, I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you, too. Are you okay? You’re safe?” He puts the phone on speaker, laying it on the table so Myeon can hear, too.

“I think so?”

“You’re not sure?”

“Well, we’re out of money. And food. I know we’re not supposed to call you, but we did it from a pay phone like we did the night we left, so maybe it’s still a secret that we’re talking?”

Min is brilliant. Jongdae’s fucking mate is fucking brilliant, and he misses him so fucking much he can’t breathe for a moment. “That was smart. If you need money, I can try and send you some—dammit, they’d need an ID for a money transfer, right?” 

Junmyeon’s nod makes Jongdae purse his lips. “Okay. We’ll figure something out—where are you?” Maybe they’re somewhere with open hybrid shelters, maybe Junmyeon can call the local DA and—

“We’re in Lost Anjelas.”

“…Where?”

“Lost Anjelas, Cally-four-nya.” 

Jongdae and Junmyeon blink at each other for long enough that Minseok hesitantly calls his name.

“I’m here,” Jongdae responds. How the fuck did they get all the way to California? Last he’d heard, they’d been headed for Minneapolis, in the opposite direction.

“Dae,” Minseok says again, only this time it’s laced with relief. “Amber thinks that we’re free now? Something about seeing it in movies?”

And then Jongdae starts laughing, because of course the trio of hybrids would solve ninety percent of their problems while he wore grooves in the special prosecutor’s floor.

“Min, I love you.”

“I love you, too. Are you okay?”

“I’m brilliant. You’re brilliant. We’re all brilliant—are you still at the bus station?”

“No—some guy with dogs almost hunted us at the first bus station, so we didn’t want to be there if he followed us or something.”

“Makes sense,” Jongdae says, trying to keep his voice calm instead of raging about how some fucking bastard had tried to hunt the love of his life down like some dumb animal when he’s so obviously far from stupid. “Can you tell me what’s nearby? Yixing has an actor friend that lives in that city, so we can have him pick you up if we know where to tell him to go.”

“Hang on, Amber is asking some people. There are hybrids just walking around, Dae! Did you know some of them have  _ scales?” _

“I did,” Jongdae laughs. Hybrids derived from ectothermic animals aren’t really cold-blooded themselves, but they do tend to run at a cooler body temperature than humans. They’d definitely be happier somewhere like California rather than North Dakota.

“It’s so cool!" Minseok gushes, making Jongdae smile at the American slang surely picked up from his teenage daughter. "And they—oh. Here, Amber will just tell you in English.”

The rustling of the phone changing hands, then Amber’s cheery hello makes Jongdae smile. She confirms she’s well and gives him a set of cross streets, then says Zitao wants to know if Junmyeon and Yixing are there.

“Junmyeon’s here and would love to talk to Tao.”

Myeon’s already teary even before he hears Tao’s breathy “Jun-ma!”

Giving them a little privacy, Jongdae swipes Myeon’s phone and steps away slightly to call Yixing. He’d gotten a new phone with a new phone number, saying that he’d just give it to Zitao when he came back so the hybrid could have his own. 

In the meantime, Jongdae’s glad to have a way to get ahold of Yixing so he can pass on the hybrids’ location to a trusted actor friend. 

And then Minseok’s back on the line.

“Yixing’s friend will send someone to pick you up, so stay right on that corner. I don’t know what the person will look like or what kind of car they’ll be driving, but they’ll know your names and give you the password ‘along with the gods,’ okay?”

Yixing hadn’t known if Kyungsoo himself would be available or if he’d be on set and have to send someone else, but he swore up and down that this Korean pal would definitely take the hybrids in for as long as needed. 

“Okay, Dae. We will go with a human who knows our names and says ‘along with the gods’ to us. But I really miss you, my mate. I want to be with you soon, not Yixing’s friend.”

“I know, Min. I miss you, too. I love you so much, and I’m so proud of you—all three of you. You're all so brave and clever, and I'll do my best to live up to that so we can be together again soon. Don’t use Yixing’s phone—I will be able to talk to you again once you’re at Yixing’s friend’s house.”

“Okay, Dae. Oh, there’s beeping? I wonder what—”

The call dies and Jongdae sighs. It’s such a relief to know his Min is safe—not quite ‘free’ in the true sense, since he’s still technically a runaway/fugitive of the law, depending on which angle Gaines is playing at the moment, but at least California’s not going to remand the trio without a fight, buying them more time to figure out some way to legally kick that scumbag’s ass. 

Hearing Min’s voice had re-ignited the fire in Jongdae’s gut, the need to have his mate close, the anger that someone would dare try to diminish the magnificent person that Minseok is into either an animal or a criminal.

Junmyeon’s phone rings with the theme from Yixing’s latest blockbuster. He picks it up, then starts laughing, putting the phone on speaker and spinning it onto the desk to rest against Jongdae’s black screen.

“Say it again for Dae, Xing.”

“Kyungsoo’s not able to pick them up himself—he’s on set as I suspected. So he’s sending the guy he’s been dating for the last year—one Kim Jongin, A.K.A. the supermodel, Kai.”

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

The car that pulls up to the curb in front of Minseok’s family is almost as long as a bus. Except it’s low to the ground instead of tall, and the door opens in the middle instead of at the front.

A handsome human pokes his head out of the car and smiles at them. “Are you Minseok, Zitao, and Amber?” he asks.

Minseok nods, still holding onto Amber’s hand and Zitao’s shoulder. He’s not willing to get any closer until he hears what Dae told him to listen for.

“Ah! I’m glad I found you. I’m Jongin, and I’m supposed to tell you ‘along with the gods’ as like a password or something?”

He immediately says something in English as well but Minseok is already ushering his family forward, trusting Dae and therefore trusting the man he’d sent for them.

“You are Yixing’s friend?” he asks as he follows Amber into the car, sandwiching her between himself and Zitao just as they’d done for most of the long bus journey.

“Yixing? Ah, well, I’ve never actually met him.” The guy’s scent changes from calm to flustered. “But he knows my boyfriend Kyungsoo, and Kyungsoo said of course you guys could stay with us. We have lots of room. Only Kyungsoo’s working today, so I get to pick you up instead.”

Again Jongin follows the words with English sentences and more smiles, and when Amber nods, Minseok guesses the guy is just repeating himself, evidently having been told of their multiple-language situation. The car starts moving even though Jongin is still sitting on the seat across from them. It doesn’t seem to alarm him at all, so Minseok also tries not to be alarmed. Maybe cars move by themselves in this magical place where hybrids are free to walk around and not be hunted by loud sniffing dogs.

Jongin’s thumb is sliding rapidly over his phone. “Uh, okay, so I’m having our staff make you guys some lunch—Soo forwarded me Yixing’s text and it said you guys are probably really hungry and that you like meat?”

Minseok and Zitao are nodding—one of the first words they’d traded in each other’s language had been  _ meat— _ and a moment later, Amber is nodding after Jongin’s English words.

“Great! We’ll get you all fed, and then I’ll show you to the guest suite. There are two full baths, so you guys can get all cleaned up—Yixing’s notes said you cats like to be clean, right?”

More nodding.

“And there are plenty of beds and sofas and so on in there, so you can crash out wherever you like. Oh! And I had the staff put a couple of my old tablets in there for you guys. Yixing said it helps you translate stuff for each other? I’m sorry I don’t know any Mandarin, Zitao, I don’t mean to exclude you.”

Between himself and Amber, they manage to translate  _ exclude _ well enough to make Zitao understand. He laughs, shakes his head, waving off the apology. 

“I understand some,” he says. “Thank you for safe us.”

Jongin’s smile transforms his whole face. “You’re very welcome! I’m glad we could help. We’ve been talking about adopting a hybrid, but Soo thinks it’s kind of weird to adopt an adult like we’re their parents. But we don’t really have the time to give a child proper attention.”

Amber asks a question and Jongin smiles.

“Why don’t we have time? Well, Kyungsoo is an actor, and I’m a model. We travel a lot for work and barely have time to see each other, much less anyone else.”

Minseok furrows his brow. “What is model?” 

“Oh, it’s, like. A way to advertise clothes? You wear fancy clothes and either have your picture taken, or sometimes there are shows where you walk up and down a runway. Here—I have a video of one of my shows.”

He hands them his phone, which shows Jongin stalking down a long strip elevated a little bit off the floor. Camera flashes are everywhere but he just stares straight ahead, looking very cold and fierce. At the end he gives a little smirk as he pivots and then he strides back down the strip.

“Sehun,” Zitao says.

Minseok nods. If modeling means looking handsome and scary while pacing around, Sehun would be great at it.

“Who’s Sehun?” Jongin asks.

“A hybrid who was at Dollhouse with us. He often prowls back and forth like that.”

Jongin laughs. “I suppose it is rather like prowling. I’ve met a few hybrid models, even worked with a few, but they’re not always treated well. Almost like props rather than people, sometimes. And of course it’s hard to know whether they’re really doing it for their own enjoyment or whether they’re being exploited.”

“Exploited?”

“Taken advantage of. Treated unfairly.”

“Sehun not let advantage. He very… fight.” Zitao claws the air for emphasis.

“But he wants to fight with words instead of claws,” Minseok hastens to add in response to Jongin’s blink of alarm. “He wants humans to know what hybrids really want. He wants to learn the words to tell them.”

“Oh, like in that Christmas video? You guys were in that, right?”

They nod.

“Oh man, Kyungsoo teases me about that video so much! You guys all looked so cute, tugging people’s heartstrings and just wanting the same things everyone else wants—to be safe and free and educated, to have families, a few luxuries—but there’s this one hybrid that I can't help cooing over every single time. He's a tiger, I think? A tall guy with two-tone hair and these piercing blue eyes—”

“That’s Sehun.”

Jongin’s eyes go wide. “He’d be a great model! Do you think he’d ever want to? I know some agencies that have good reputations with hybrids.”

Minseok translates as best he can for Zitao. Zitao shrugs.

“He not very like shirt.”

Minseok smiles. “Maybe there are models just for pants.”

“There are models for all kinds of things,” Jongin laughs. “But even when modeling pants, we still usually wear shirts. The clothes can sometimes be kind of uncomfortable, but we only have to wear them for a short time. And it can be worth it in more ways besides a paycheck—fashion magazines sometimes interview popular models, and then we can draw attention to things we care about. Like vaccines for children or food for the needy.”

Minseok looks at Zitao, ears raised. Zitao’s ear flicks as he smiles back. Amber’s eyes are asking questions, so Minseok and Zitao do their best to describe Sehun, the video, and their sudden idea. Their three-languages-and-hand-gestures method of communication makes Jongin’s eyes crinkle, but he only smells interested rather than scornful.

“Sehun would probably wear a shirt if he could use his words for hybrids,” Minseok tells the human. “And he is very independent. He would probably not like to be left alone, but you could bring him with you and prowl together. Then tell everyone to treat us like people. Treat us fairly.”

Jongin blinks, then he smiles, too. “I’d have to see what Kyungsoo thinks, but that’s an interesting idea. But I could just pass along the information for the agencies—he wouldn’t have to live with us if he didn’t want to.”

The long car pulls into a long driveway leading up to a huge house like rich humans have on TV.

“Your house?” Zitao asks, ears high and eyes wide.

Jongin’s nod is a little bashful. “I told you we had plenty of room.”

Amber laughs, saying something to Jongin that makes his cheeks darken even more. At Minseok’s raised brow, Jongin translates.

“She said anyone would want to live here as long as we weren’t dicks to him. But we wouldn’t be! I mean, if he likes modeling, great, but he wouldn’t have to. He could try acting with Kyungsoo, or even just get attention for hybrids on Insta or YouTube. Or not do any of that if he doesn’t want to. I mean, he could make his own choices.”

Jongin’s cheeks are dark and he smells a little flustered as the car stops. He opens the door, stepping out to hold it wide for them to follow him out of the car and onto a fancy-looking surface made of different colored flat rocks arranged into patterns. 

“We just have so much, you know?” Jongin says as Minseok and his family take in their surroundings. “We can easily share, especially with someone who really needs it.”

Jongin ushers them toward the giant house. It’s very pretty, but Minseok doesn’t think anyone really  _ needs _ this much territory unless they wanted to have many male cat hybrids. Minseok likes having space, but he’s fine with only having a little as long as his mate is in it.

He really misses his mate. Hearing his voice had been wonderful, but it almost made it worse to be without him. Minseok had wanted to break the phone when it had cut him off.

“Dae said we could talk again from your house?” 

Jongin nods. “I guess you’re not supposed to use the phone lines too much, but the tablets have video chatting apps. I’ll show you how to use them—Yixing texted me some anonymous accounts for you to use. And, uh. Maybe you can ask about Sehun? If he’d really want to be adopted? And if he’s interested, like, how we’d do that? So I can talk about it with Kyungsoo.”

Minseok nods. If he can talk to his Dae, he will happily ask.

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

Jongdae almost dies when, as soon as he sees his mate’s face on the screen, Minseok leans in as if to kiss him. His little dissatisfied huff is adorable and heartbreaking.

“My Min. I wish I could kiss you for real, too. But it’s still good just to see each other, right?”

“I don’t like being apart from you, Dae. I am not sorry for protecting my young, but I wish we were together.”

“I know, Min. I miss you so much.”

The picture shifts and there’s some rustling, then Minseok’s settled against a pillow, sapphire earrings winking gently in the low light as Minseok’s arm extends toward the screen, evidently adjusting the angle.

“There. Now you are in a bed with me, where you belong.”

Jongdae laughs, following his mate’s example and propping his tablet up against the pillow Minseok never uses anyway because he prefers to rest his head on Jongdae instead. Still, it does feel a little like they’re lying beside each other, both comforting and frustrating.

For a moment, they just smile softly at each other, eyes roaming over faces as if to make sure they’re still as they should be. Jongdae’s not sure how he looks—the long days and irregular sleep have surely taken a toll. But Minseok looks okay, face a little drawn, silvery hair damp.

“You had a bath?”

Minseok nods. “It’s not fun without you, though.”

“Still nice to be clean, I bet.”

Minseok nods again. “Amber smells nice, now. And we groomed her hair—Jongin helped. He made most of it very short. My kit looks very cute, but also fierce.”

Jongdae smiles. Cute but fierce seems like it suits the young lynx hybrid rather well. “I’m glad. Jongin is taking good care of you? You’re okay staying with him for a while?”

More nodding. “He is very nice. He speaks two languages and gave us these tablets to translate for Zitao. And his house is so big, Dae. I would get lost if I couldn’t smell where we’d been already. We each have our own room, so I can have a break from smelling Zitao so close all the time. He is my brother, and I love him, but he still stinks.”

Jongdae laughs. “And you’re eating well?”

“Yes. Jongin gave us lots of meat and a tangy fruit called a pineapple. Amber really liked it—she said it was sweet. She sees all the colors, too, Dae. She is so clever and funny and tough, and I am so, so proud of her. My kit is amazing, Dae. When can she live with us? When can we come home?”

“Not for a little while, I’m afraid. I’m working on it, but I think it won’t be for weeks.”

Minseok’s ears flop against the pillow. “I will try and be patient. And I will teach my kit well—she is not very civilized. Like Zitao before he lived with Yixing and Junmyeon. She does not know how to read any letters, and we had to show her how to eat with silverware.”

“She didn’t have anyone to teach her.”

“I know—it is not her fault that she is ignorant. But now she has her father and her uncle. We will show her how to be civilized. At least she already knew about clothes.” Minseok smiles. “Jongin wants to buy her  _ lots  _ of clothes. He can, right? She doesn’t have any, and Jongin’s job is clothes. And makeup, and jewelry. He likes our sapphires.”

“I do, too. I like matching with my mate, being connected even though we’re far apart right now.”

“Me, too.”

“And Jongin can buy Amber whatever she needs—I’ll pay him back.”

“I want to pay him back. I want to get a job, in Korea. I want to be a teacher, like my mother. Teach hybrid young about letters and numbers, so they can all understand. It’s scary, Dae. To not be able to read any of the signs. To not know where I am or where I’m going.”

“But you got all the way to California. Was that on purpose?”

Minseok nods. “Amber wanted to go where hybrids are free. She asked humans to help us, and none of them smelled like lies. They were all very nice, but they didn’t know we are hybrids.”

“You were smart to blend in, but most humans would have been nice even if they did know. You don’t have to worry about paying Jongin back—I told you we have plenty of money. But if you want to become a teacher, then we’ll work toward that. It will take years, but I know you can do it. It’s definitely much harder to take care of yourself if you’re not educated, and I think it’s very noble of you to want to help other people learn. And I think it’s a lovely way to honor your mother, who did such a good job of educating you.”

“She was very smart.”

“So is her son. And her granddaughter. I’m sure she’d be so proud of both of you, just like I am.”

“I am proud of us, too. I can’t wait for you to know Amber, Dae. I can’t wait for my family to all be together.”

“Me, either. I will do everything I can to make it safe for you to come home soon.”

“I know you will. You always work so hard for us.” Minseok’s words are warm but he shifts a little awkwardly, face scrunching briefly.

“You okay?” Fears of injuries wash over Jongdae.

“Seeing you in our bed… My body wants yours,” Minseok admits, looking adorably sheepish.

Jongdae’s cock twitches. “Should we take care of that?”

Minseok laughs. “Yes. As soon as I am home.”

“I look forward to that,” Jongdae smirks. “But we could also do something now, if you want. You could use your own hands in place of mine.”

Minseok wrinkles his nose. “That’s not fun.”

Jongdae suppresses a wince. He shouldn’t be surprised masturbation has no appeal for Minseok after doing it joylessly for so long.

“Would it be fun if I helped? It’s fine if you don’t want to, but I could talk to you, pretend it’s me touching you, tell you how hot it is that I can turn you on and make you feel good even when we can’t really touch.”

Minseok’s face scrunches again and Jongdae can hear him shifting around on the bed. “Like how?”

“Well… I could tell you that I love you, and that if we were together I’d kiss you all over. I’d especially kiss your delicious lips, my Min. And your neck—I’d leave fresh new marks on your throat, make you hiss when I bite you with my dull human teeth.”

“I want to bite you, too,” Minseok says, a hint of a growl in his voice. “I will wear my guards and leave bruises all over your shoulders.”

“Mmm, I can’t wait.” Jongdae’s dick can’t wait, either. “Min. Do you want to see how much my body wants yours?”

Minseok’s ears flip forward. “Yes, but—oh.”

Jongdae smiles as he pushes the pillow the tablet’s leaning against, arranging it so it’s far enough away to frame his bare torso and pajama-clad hips.

“You’re hard?” Minseok asks, wide pupils dominating the screen.

“Mm-hmm. I get hard when I think about you biting me—” Jongdae runs his hand down his body, pausing at his chest, his abdomen, his hip. “—here. And here. And here.” 

Minseok’s throaty rumble makes Jongdae’s cock twitch beneath the flannel. “Show me, Dae. Show me you are hard.”

Jongdae pushes the fabric over his hips slowly, enjoying Minseok’s swallowed whine. “Would you taste me, my gorgeous mate? Would you put your mouth on my cock and make me moan for you?”

“Yes,” Minseok growls. “Wanna swallow you.”

“I would like that.” Jongdae wraps one hand around himself and strokes. “Your mouth is so hot, Min. Your raspy tongue feels so good on my cock.”

Minseok’s breathy groan is almost like a sob. “Dae. Dae, I wanna—” he trails off with a little growl, brows furrowed, eyes glistening. “Wanna be with you. With my mate.”

“Min, you are. It’s not your hands, not your mouth, but it’s your love. Our love. Let’s not be frustrated—we still have each other, right? You’re safe and you’re mine, and I’m here and I’m yours, right?”

“Yes. You are mine even if you’re far away.”

“Right. So let me love you, my mate. Your hands are my hands. Let me make you feel good. I’ll touch your cock slowly and gently, for pleasure, like I always do. No forcing, remember? Just love.”

“Just love,” Minseok repeats, and there’s more rustling before his eyes close, tears escaping although the noise that slips from his parted lips is one of relief. “You always touch my dick so nicely. Your hands make me feel so good.”

“That’s right, my love, my mate. My Min. Feel my hands on you. Feel my love.”

“I feel it,” Minseok moans. “Wish I could smell it.”

“You remember it, though, right? I remember how you smell—blueberries and mint from our baths, and that sort of peppery cat-scent, when I press my nose to your fur.”

“You smell like sunshine and trees. Like laughter. Like  _ home.” _

“That’s right—we’re home whenever we’re together, aren’t we? We’re still together, my Min. I’m right here, loving you, making you feel good with my hands.”

“Yes.”

“Should I rub a little faster? Slide my hand all the way up and all the way down, over your sexy cat bumps, over and over? Rub my thumb over the tip in that way that makes you shiver?”

Minseok shivers at the suggestion, then again when he apparently follows it. “My Dae. Love you—love how you touch me.”

“I love you so much, my Min. Love touching you. Love the sounds you make, just for me, just for your mate.”

Obligingly, Minseok makes such a sound, biting his lip as his brows angle upwards.

“Yes, my Min. Let me make you feel good. Let go of all that tension. Let it all out.”

“My Dae.”

“Your Dae. Your mate.”

“My mate— _ Dae…” _

Minseok had never shifted the tablet to show more than his face but that’s honestly all Jongdae needs, the way his love lifts that elegant pointed chin, lifts a corner of his upper lip to reveal a fang, the way the sooty spots along his hairline stand out against his flushed face, the way he releases Jongdae’s name as a shuddering sigh, dark lashes lifting to reveal hazy ice-green eyes. 

“So beautiful,” Jongdae breathes, and then he’s filling his own fist, murmuring Minseok’s name as if he were doing it against those soft, slightly parted lips.

Minseok’s languid smile is a blanket of warmth. “Love you, Dae.”

“Love you, too.”

“Hmm. Mmmade a mmmess.”

Jongdae chuckles at both Minseok’s disgusted face and his purr-distorted words.

“Sorry. But Min, it’s so good to hear you purr again.”

“Mmm. ‘Mm happy, Dae.”

“Good. I’m happy, too.”

“Mmm.” 

Jongdae smiles at his sleepy kitty. He must be exhausted. It makes him feel like he’s taking care of his mate a little, that he could help coax some tension out of him.

“Sleep well, Min. We can talk more soon.”

“Mmm… sposta ask you… Jongin… sponsor… Sehun.”

“Sehun?” 

But Minseok’s asleep, soft breaths the only response.

Still smiling, Jongdae cleans himself up and fixes the pillow so Minseok’s sleeping face is right next to him again. It’s the sort of cheesy thing that some lovesick fool would do in a drama, but Jongdae doesn’t care. He is a lovesick fool. 

For the first time in far too long, Jongdae falls asleep to the sound of his mate breathing beside him.

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ


	10. Chapter 10

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

Jongin’s mate is kind of scary, but Minseok likes him anyway. Like his own Dae, Kyungsoo is much more confident than he might look. He’s smaller than everyone except Amber, but he’s perfectly at ease in their presence, asking if they slept well, if they need anything, and apologizing for not being able to pick them up himself.

Like Jongin, Kyungsoo speaks Korean and English, and Zitao again waves off apologies for being less able to communicate with him. 

“I understand you are friend. Yixing friend. So, my friend. We safe, Amber safe, is enough.” 

He’s only a bit skittish around these strange humans, but happy enough to stay nearby as long as they don’t try to touch him. Amber would rather not be touched by humans, either, though she did allow Jongin to use his clippers on her hair. She’s a lot more animated in a warm house with a full belly and nice humans who speak her language, and it’s fun to watch her try all the different food that Kyungsoo or their cooking friend make for them.

He remembers Dae taking him to try all different foods and wonders if he enjoyed watching Minseok the way Minseok enjoys watching Amber. Dae would probably also enjoy watching Amber, and Minseok wishes very much his mate could be here with him.

It had been nice to see him on the tablet screen, nice to hear his voice, nice to let Dae’s words pull pleasure from his body even if it was Minseok’s own hand around his dick. Not as nice as being with him for real, holding him, pinning him down so Minseok can put all his limbs around what’s his. 

But Amber is his, too, and he won’t leave her alone. Everything here seems safe, but Minseok’s not about to risk anything. He will fully relax when his Dae says that sicko isn’t allowed to have Amber. Preferably, he’d go to the bad human cage for hurting her, but Minseok is beginning to understand that sometimes bad humans are still allowed to be free. He wonders if sometimes good humans are locked up, like Minseok was, and shudders. Surely if human laws are unfair to hybrids, they’re at least fair to other humans.

Kyungsoo and Jongin talk on the tablet with Yixing and Junmyeon and even Baekhyun, and Yixing and Junmyeon talk to Zitao. And Dae talks with Minseok and with Amber, and eventually they make a plan. Humans really do seem to be mostly good. The ones who aren’t might just be ignorant, and like Wendy’s mother at his favorite restaurant, they can learn new things if someone shows them. 

So, like the Christmas video, they will show them. They will go on the TV this time, like the Christmas tree protestors. And in two languages, they will plead for Amber’s safety, for Minseok’s right to protect his young, for hybrids not to be treated like farm animals or pets. Hybrids are animals the same way humans are animals, animals that are also people.

Jongin takes them shopping so they can have nice clothes for the TV, just like Dae wears fancy suits to the courtroom. They’ll look civilized and impressive, not ragged hybrids asking for mercy, but strong people commanding respect.

They meet with Jongin’s friend Sooyoung, a woman who does makeup and things for Jongin. She wants to do makeup and things for them, too, which Amber is wary about until she sees Minseok easily submit to having his eyes lined with kohl. Baekhyun always looks more intense with his eyes outlined, and Minseok needs to be intense. He needs people to understand that hurting hybrids is the same as hurting humans, and that it would be best if everyone just agreed not to hurt each other.

Sooyoung is very fancy, and she helps Amber choose some shimmery powder to smear on her eyelids, a sort of soft blueberry shade that makes her eyes look even more golden. Amber is fine with being touched by Sooyoung, scent entirely relaxed unlike when Jongin had trimmed her hair. 

But nobody’s scent is relaxed when they ride in the long car to meet with the lady from the TV, an older woman with plastic hair and lots of makeup who says she’s called Barbara.

She doesn’t speak any Korean, so Minseok uses his politist  _ nice to meet you _ when Jongin introduces him. She smiles a lot, chatting a lot with Amber and Jongin before Jongin turns to translate for Minseok.

“She is one of the most famous interviewers in America, and she’s known for being respectful but asking difficult questions. She’s not doing it to be mean, okay? She wants you to give real, raw answers, even if they’re hard to talk about, okay? Just try not to swear.”

Minseok nods. “I will talk about everything.”

Like the good lawyers, she will probably ask things that make Minseok feel defensive. But he’s not afraid of her or ashamed of anything he’s done. 

“Good,” Jongin nods back. “You look great. Both of you. Sooyoung did a great job.”

Minseok nods again, smiling a little. He’d seen himself on one of the screens they’d passed, and he thinks his Dae would like the tight, subtle lines around his eyes that somehow make them seem even bigger, make the pale color of them even brighter.

“No humans have eyes like yours,” Sooyoung had said as she’d carefully drawn on his face. “You’ll sit in that studio, regal and dignified but unsettlingly different. Keep them on edge a little, like a hawk in a flock of sparrows. Prove yourself not to be a mere animal, but remind them all you’re not fully human, either.”

So as the studio lights come up and the cameras move around them, Minseok keeps his chin up, holding Amber’s hand where she sits close at his side. Zitao smiles at them from behind the cameras, the twitching of the tip of his tail being the only giveaway of his nerves from this distance.

He can smell Amber’s unease, but she also keeps her spine straight and her head up. She’s so fierce, and Minseok can’t help smiling at her. He’s so proud of his kit, and while he hates being separated from his mate, it’s worth it to protect his precious stone of a daughter.

The interviewer lady and Jongin are sitting sort of slanted so they’re almost facing each other but still facing all of the cameras, too. Someone starts counting down in English, and Minseok sits a little straighter.

He’s not nervous. He’s ready. He’ll tell the humans what Sooyoung had told him as she’d combed foamy stuff into his hair, the fruity scent not enough to cover the scent of female feline hybrid on her clothes.

“It’s dumb that anyone argues if hybrids are people. Of course you are—you’re a person because you can say you’re a person. That’s all the proof anyone should need.” 

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

Jongdae wishes very much that he were sitting on the sofa in the shelter lounge with Minseok once again snuggled up to his side, making happy little noises over salty, buttery popcorn. Instead, he’s sandwiched between Junmyeon and Baekhyun, Yixing on Myeon’s other side and already crumpling a tissue to his face.

The huge white liger, Sehun, is on Baekhyun’s other side, head tilted down to hear Baekhyun’s murmur. His vocabulary has grown a lot in the last few months, and Jongdae’s even seen his small mouth stretch into a smile once or twice, much less frustrated now that he can usually understand and be understood.

After Jongdae and Baekhyun had confirmed their serious interest and they passed a background check, they’d set up a video call for Sehun to “meet” Jongin and Kyungsoo, who seem to be a very sweet and loving couple. As Kyungsoo is a Korean citizen, it’ll be relatively simple to get the sponsorship approved, though taking Sehun out of state won’t be allowed until the Dollhouse trial is concluded. To the law, Sehun might be evidence, but it’s already clear that to Kyungsoo and Jongin, he’s a very valued individual.

Most of the other Dollhouse males have gathered into the lounge again, tolerating each other’s scents in order to watch this special edition live interview. Jongdae had helped as much as he could without officially doing so, feeding Yixing suggested interview questions and quietly withdrawing Minseok’s previous statement as documentary evidence in the Dollhouse trial. He’s fine with allowing this “evidence” to be tampered with, fine with allowing his story to leak if it saves Amber and hopefully other hybrids, too.

He’s a bit surprised when the interview starts and the main host is one of the most famous interviewers in the country. He wonders if it’s Yixing’s connections, Kyungsoo’s, or even Kai’s that they’d leaned on to get such a big name to cooperate with their subversive little plan.

“So, Minseok, Amber. What brought you to our program tonight? You traveled a long way, may or may not have broken several laws, all to be heard. What message is so important?”

Jongin translates smoothly for Minseok, and Amber looks up to her father to give the first answer. And Jongdae’s striking, brave, brilliant mate looks directly into the camera, sapphires gleaming in his ears, eyeliner making his ice-green eyes look like the lustrous jade Yixing suspects he was named for.

“My name is Kim Minseok,” he says in his charmingly-accented English before reverting into his native tongue, pausing after each line to let Jongin translate his words.

“I am here to tell the world that I am a person, no matter what human laws say. I am not human, and I am not ashamed of that. I am proud of my animal side, but I am still a man, a mate, a father. I love my family. I work hard to protect and care for those I love. I just want to be allowed to do that, like any other man. Like any other person.”

When it’s Amber’s turn, her message is slightly different. Where Minseok’s speech is almost too orderly, hers is a blur of slang.

“I jus’ wanna say that I’m not anyone’s property. I’m not a slave or a whore or somethin’ to be used. I’m part animal, but I’m not a pet. I’m a girl, but I’m not a victim. I belong to my family an’ to myself, and my body belongs to me.”

“I see. This is something that has been debated back and forth many times in the fifty years since the first hybrid was created. Why have you come all this way to say the same things others have said before?”

“Because human laws let terrible things happen to hybrids,” Minseok says, voice firm but polite. “Human laws let us be kept naked in cages, have our seed stolen, have pregnancies forced on women who have been given drugs to mix their children further. Human laws allow six-year-old hybrid children to be sold to men who force sex on them. And human laws would have made me turn my daughter over to the human sicko who already hurt her.”

Amber doesn’t even flinch when Jongin translates Minseok’s comments into English, but the interviewer certainly does. 

“That’s quite the accusation. Amber’s legal owner has been giving his own interviews—he says you’ve stolen his beloved pet, Freckles.”

“I’m not a pet,” Amber says. “An’ he doesn’t love me. My mother loved me—they shot ‘er with drugs so she wouldn’t attack them for takin’ me away. An’ the perv I ran away from doesn’t even know me. He didn’t feed me or give me anything to wear, jus’ took me to a hotel room right away. He didn’t even say anything to me, jus’ taped up my hands and mouth, held me down an’ made me scream an’ bleed. So I made  _ him _ scream an’ bleed, an’ then I ran away.”

“You attacked a human?”

“He attacked me first. I was a little kid—I didn’t know about sex. I thought he was killing me.”

Minseok’s face is stony as his daughter relates this tale, her voice angry instead of ashamed. But he rolls his eyes when the interviewer expresses concerns that if a six-year-old child can fight off a grown man despite being bound and gagged, hybrids must be very dangerous.

“Lots of people are dangerous. That man holding the camera is much bigger than you—that does not mean he will hold you down. The friend we are staying with has many knives in his kitchen—that does not mean he will cut anyone. It is not our teeth and claws that make us dangerous. It is our desperation. Amber had no other way of protecting herself—was my little girl supposed to lay there and let him tear her apart? And since the law will not protect her, I must do it myself. What father would hand his child over to be abused just because some man in a suit said those are the rules?”

“But you only learned of your fatherhood recently, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“So you’re not mated to Amber’s mother?”

“I never met her mother. I have never even had sex with a female—they collected my seed against my will and forced my children on women whose names I don’t even know.”

“Yet you’re so attached to the daughter you met a week ago, was it? That you’d run off with her based on some story she told you?”

“I would protect  _ any _ child from being harmed, hybrid or human,” Minseok says, voice the kind of icy that means he’s suppressing a growl. “And why would I not believe her? She did not smell of lies.”

“Some would say that claiming proof that humans can’t detect isn’t fair—we can’t smell what hybrids claim they can.”

Minseok shrugs. “I am told that the colors you call ‘red’ and ‘green’ are different, but they look the same to me. Should I call everyone who claims they are different a liar?”

“A question for Amber—if this man attacked you as you claim, why didn’t you go to the police? Or anyone else, for that matter?”

“I didn’t know what police even were,” Amber says. “The only humans I’d ever seen were the ones who drugged my mom an’ took her away for a while, or drugged her to steal my older brothers and sisters. Then they took me and gave me to a human who hurt me so bad, I thought I was dying. I didn’t trust humans. An’ even later when I learned that some humans are nice, well, the cops never were. It’s against human law to sleep on the streets, but I couldn’t go to a human shelter—they’d learn I’m not human, an’ I really thought they’d hurt me just like all the other humans who’d known what I am. Plus I didn’t even know English for a long time, so I couldn’t have asked for help even if I wanted to.” 

“But you were born here, both of you. How did you not know English?”

Amber snorts. “They weren’t givin’ us lessons—we lived naked in cages. They didn’t even talk to us. But my mom was from China, I guess, so that’s the language she taught us.”

“And Minseok, your mother was from Korea?”

He nods. “The only things humans ever said to me while I lived in the cage were insults. I did not know what they meant, but the way they said it, I knew it was something mean. But my mother had taught me that most humans are good. And when I went from the cage to the shelter with all the other hybrids, I learned it was true. Humans hurt us, but humans saved us. There are bad humans who buy children to hurt them, and good humans who teach us how to understand the human world. I believe there are more good humans than bad ones. Good humans can make good laws, ones that say hybrids should have clothing, warm homes that aren’t cages, that we can choose our own mates and raise our families. That our young should be protected.”

“Some say that if hybrids have the same rights as humans, that you’ll take over, and then humans will be living in cages.”

Minseok snorts. “Do the humans who make unfair laws really think that because they are cruel and love power, that hybrids are the same? And if they really think we are so much alike, is that not admitting we are people? If some hybrids are cruel and try to hurt humans, put them on trial, send them to prison, just like when humans are cruel. Do not track us down with dogs and guns like unthinking animals. Do not ignore our stories because you do not want to hear them. By refusing to admit we are people, humans are the unthinking animals.”

“No other species besides _Homo_ _sapiens_ has ever been considered a person before. Why should hybrids be different? You say yourself that you’re not human.”

“I also say myself that I am a person. My mother taught me to be civilized even though we lived in a cage. I can read and write and think for myself. If other hybrids cannot, that only means they were never allowed to learn, not that they are unable to. Making a law that says I am property does not make me an object. Making a law that says I am livestock does not make me a simple animal. We are animals, like humans are animals. And we are people, like humans are people. Words on a page that say otherwise are lies that let humans abuse us.” 

“Bold words from a bold heart. We’ll be back with more of Minseok and Amber after this.”

A murmur of conversation begins along with the commercials, and Jongdae looks away from the screen to see his friends staring at him, brows raised.

“What?”

“When did your mate become so eloquent?” Yixing asks. “I only hear him use broken Kor-darin with Zitao.”

Jongdae grins. “He’s always been bright. But I blame Baekhyun for most of his new vocabulary and Junmyeon for his insurrectionist views.”

“I never taught him any such thing.”

“No, but every time you try to explain hybrid law to him, he gives you that humans-are-morons look,” Jongdae points out.

“I get that look from all the K-hybrids all day long,” Baekhyun says. “Insurrection seems contagious.”

“Taozi’s infected, too,” Yixing reports. “I got the humans-are-morons look all the time.”

“Well, that’s mostly because you and Myeon-hyung moon over him like idiots.”

“We do not,” Junmyeon protests.

Jongdae, Baekhyun, and even Yixing give him disbelieving looks.

“...Okay, fine, we totally do. And I can’t wait for this mess to be over, so we can moon over him some more.”

Baekhyun’s smile goes serious. “Any word on that front?”

“Some. I’ll talk to Kyungsoo about it later, but basically, if Amber was injured as badly as she reports, there may be scarring, especially if she had no proper medical care afterwards. That doesn’t prove anything, but it’s another piece of circumstantial evidence to add to the claims of abuse. She could use a full medical check-up anyway—if she agrees to be examined, that would help.”

Baekhyun huffs. “I live for the day when a person saying 'I was raped’ isn’t immediately answered with ‘prove it.’”

"I know, I know, I hate it, too. She doesn't have to—we can win without it, maybe I shouldn't ask."

"The whole point of having rights is to have choices," Jongdae says. "Make it clear it's optional, let her discuss it with her family."

"You get to call them about it then," Junmyeon states.

Whatever face Jongdae makes at that earns laughter all around. 

"Hey, you're about to co-parent a teenage step-kit," Baekhyun points out. "May as well start the awkward right away."

“It won’t be awkward,” Jongdae decides. “It will be honest and straightforward and totally cool.”

"Ugh, parents who think they're cool never are," Yixing dismisses. “Just look at Myeon.”

Junmyeon makes half a dozen faces before he starts to laugh at himself. And that makes it all the more enjoyable to laugh along with him.

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

“Okay so I know it’s super creepy of a bunch of grown men to be concerned at all with what’s in your pants and the shape it’s in and it’s totally your body and nobody has any right to care about it besides you but if maybe you kinda thought you might want to maybe see a doctor just for your own health and awareness of your own body and—”

“Dae? What are you talking about?”

“Oh, fuck, I should be saying this in English, shouldn’t I?”

“...Probably not?”

Minseok can’t hide his smile as Dae slumps. 

“Dae! My Dae, why are you too flustered to function?”

“Because!” Dae whines, going from Scary Lawyer to Adorable Kit in the space of a heartbeat. “I’m supposed to ask Amber if she’ll consent to being examined by a doctor. But it’s so humiliating.”

“Why is it humiliating?”

“...You’re right. It shouldn’t be humiliating. It’s just a health check on a normal, non-shameful body part.”

“I think I was examined by a doctor at the shelter.”

“Exactly! It’s totally normal to have your health checked.”

“He shone lights in my face so I growled at him until he went away.”

“...Oh. Well, you have the right to refuse the exam, but growling might have been a bit much.”

Minseok shrugs. “I did not understand what he was doing, and he smelled like the collectors.”

“...Okay, I’d have growled, too. He should have explained it, then asked permission.”

“He didn’t even speak my language.”

“Then they should have found someone who did. Which in this case is supposed to be me, explaining things to Amber.” Dae runs his fingers through his hair. “Min. When Amber was attacked—when that bastard hurt her—he may have left scars. Marks. That a doctor could still find.”

“So you want a doctor to look?”

“Only if she’s okay with it, it’s her body and if she’d rather have privacy—”

“Amber,” Minseok says to the girl next to him, eyeing the screen and her father with a single raised brow. “My Dae please.” That’s as far as Minseok’s English reaches into this subject, so he gestures at Dae to finish.

Dae sighs, then looks very sheepish as he stammers out a question.

Beside him, Amber shrugs. “Okay,” she says.

Dae blinks. “Really?” he says, then repeats it in English.

Amber nods. Minseok can’t pick up all of what she says, but the word  _ help _ is included, so he assumes his kit knows what she’s agreeing to. They trade sentences in English for a while, and by the end of it, they’re both smiling. His kit does not smell anxious at all, so Minseok is content that all is well.

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

“That fucking bastard.”

“‘Bastard’ seems a little soft for what we’re dealing with,” Junmyeon says.

Jongdae has to look away from the medical report to avoid throwing up. “I can’t—why the fuck does anyone even  _ want _ to do this to kids?”

Junmyeon shrugs. “Rape is never about sex. It’s about power. He probably is super insecure about his masculinity, has to carry around guns and hurt kids to feel like a big man, it’s all very classic profiling.”

“I almost hate profiling. Like, knowing a reason why someone might hurt someone else doesn’t make it okay.”

“That’s why we still send them to jail. You know. When they actually hurt humans.”

“This whole thing is disgusting. Thankfully, she healed well—’normal functionality including normal potential for natural pregnancy and parturition’ is a relief to read, but we’re still gonna get her a proper therapist to talk to about this and whatever else she has questions about. I’m sure Baekhyun knows someone in Korea who speaks English.”

“The social workers at the women’s shelter have counselling training, if she wants to talk to someone before then,” Junmyeon suggests. “And thankfully, while Amber’s medical report isn’t definitive proof Gaines did anything to her, in conjunction with the record of his injuries, it’s at least enough to get a denial of custody. He’ll appeal, of course, but at least you can tell our brave little fugitives it’s safe to come home.”

Jongdae’s scowl levels into a half-smile. “That part, at least, will be my absolute delight.”

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

Minseok can see his Dae before he smells him, but his own scent must give him away. Beside him, Amber is chuckling at both of her protectors, and if Minseok smells half as dopey as Zitao, it’s an entirely valid reaction.

Kyungsoo and Jongin smell nervous, though. They’re holding hands, pressed tight against each other on the opposite seat of the long car, their limo, which is evidently driven by two other people who take turns, not operating automatically. It’s like a bus just for a small group of people, Minseok’s family and the couple that helped them, and it took only one day from sunrise to sunrise to get back to where his Dae is.

Amber pats his hand and Minseok realizes he’s probably squeezing too tight, excitement making all his muscles tense. So he lets go of his kit’s hand in favor of wrapping his arms around her shoulders, squeezing her close and kissing her hair as she whines, sounding almost like his Dae.

If he brings his kit to live with himself and Dae, between his young and his mate, Minseok will be surrounded by mischievous kittens all the time. 

He can’t wait.

Still, it’s an English-speaking lady social worker that he turns Amber over to when the car stops and the five of them climb out. The courts evidently ruled that Amber belongs to Korea, but they haven’t yet agreed that she belongs to Minseok and his mate. So she has to stay at the shelter for a while with the other women and children, which frustrates Minseok even though Amber is entirely okay with it.

“Dude, they’re gonna feed me,” she laughs. “An’ I’ll have my own room, an’ nobody’s gonna try to fuck me while I’m sleepin’.” 

When Jongin reports this comment to him, Minseok is a little sad that’s all it takes. He thinks of his own life—almost all those definitions of a good place to live were true of his cage. If not for the weekly collections, Minseok might have learned to shove aside the loneliness and be content. 

But then he thinks of the real cats at the zoo, how they had companions or at least were allowed to raise their kits, how they had nice food and things to play with and the open sky above their heads. How it’s sad that they’re still in a cage, but how it’s still a way better cage than Minseok himself ever had. How his own kit would have been just as thrilled to be offered a home in the zoo as she is to have a spot in the shelter.

He’s so glad his mate has a cute human nose instead of an effective hybrid one. He’s so glad to be able to wrap himself in Dae’s arms, so happy to know that Dae’s tears against his neck are from relief. So relieved, himself, that his own tears will be interpreted in the same way.

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

“Fucking bite me, Min,” Jongdae pants that night when Minseok is hammering away at his prostate, pushing Jongdae steadily toward his third orgasm. “Harder, my mate—mark me up, take me, I’m fucking  _ yours.” _

God, the way Minseok growls above him. The way he reaches for Jongdae’s dick, never one to find his own pleasure without making sure his partner finds his. To make sure  _ Jongdae _ finds his, because he’s the only one Minseok has ever shared pleasure with. Has ever  _ wanted _ to share pleasure with.

Baekhyun has told him that several of the male hybrids share sex, not out of love but out of hormonal needs, mutual ‘itch-scratching’ rather than a more than friendly attachment in most cases. And how most of them had propositioned Minseok, before they were romantic mates, when they were first denmates, even before Jongdae had taken him home, before Minseok had met Jongdae.

Jongdae had never been Minseok’s only option, a choice of convenience, not when he had ample opportunity to connect with his fellow hybrids. He hadn’t been propositioned by anyone female, but after Minseok’s declarations that he wanted no more children, would never feel truly comfortable dating a female, Jongdae doesn’t think he needs to add that demographic to his self-satisfying survey. 

Minseok wants only Jongdae. And Jongdae wants only Minseok.

His ardent attention tonight is so much proof of that, and the thought along with the sensations through dick and prostate and shoulder where Minseok’s biting a bruising claim make Jongdae whine and writhe and pulse helplessly into Minseok’s fist.

The thrashing makes Min’s capped claws press against Jongdae’s skin even harder, makes those knobs along the shaft of Minseok’s dick swell more and rub further against his now-oversensitive prostate. Makes Minseok yelp a little, earning more fingers digging in and finally his Min is pulsing inside him. 

Nothing has ever felt so fucking good. Not any previous boyfriend, not earning his law degree, not any court victory, nothing. To have Minseok back is the best fucking feeling in the world.

“You’re so amazing,” Jongdae murmurs when they’re cleaned up and wearing their shorts and pressed close together beneath the blankets. “Min. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, Dae,” Minseok rumbles, sounding amused and content.

“Fucking love your purrs,” Jongdae adds, which, as he’d hoped, only makes the rumbling in Minseok’s throat increase, letting it reverberate through Jongdae’s body as if it’s the breath needed to keep him alive.

“Fucking love your heartbeat,” Minseok responds, laying his head over Jongdae’s chest, tufted ear resting over his heart.

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

Dae looks absolutely  _ gorgeous _ wearing nothing but a glazed expression and the oval bruises of Minseok’s bites all over his skin. And the smaller, circular bruises, arranged in clusters of four or five, from Minseok’s dulled claws pressing hard against Dae’s writhing body. They almost look like Minseok’s own spots, a matching sprinkle of grouped dots spread over shoulders, chest, back, and sides. Not quite as if Dae’s a hybrid himself, but exactly like he’s thoroughly loved by one.

Thanks to the wonder that is concealer, Minseok is the only one who gets to see his Dae like this. When he’s prowling the courtroom in his fancy suit, no one would ever guess he’d been coming hard on Minseok’s cock mere hours ago, pushed over the edge by dulled teeth closing hard over his jugular, held down by capped claws digging into his ribs.

Minseok can’t help but smirk to himself as he watches Dae pace, addressing the jury with a voice that rises and falls along with his hand gestures. He isn’t a big man but he commands everyone’s attention anyway, making a cage of his words to trap the collectors in. He’s amazing, and he’s Minseok’s.

The lawyer for the collectors pretends to be unimpressed, but Minseok can smell his unease. He is clever with his words, too, but Dae is much more passionate. The bad lawyer is fighting for money. Dae is fighting for  _ justice. _

Minseok is wearing a suit, too, and he feels very civilized indeed as he takes the witness stand. The courtroom is a place for shine, not sparkle, so Minseok has traded out the blue sapphire earrings for simple silver hoops, still wanting to draw attention to where the collectors had mutilated his ears. Baekhyun had shared his kohl with Minseok, agreeing with Sooyoung that highlighting his eyes makes him both non-human and a very mesmerizing person.

So Minseok holds his head high, looks over the humans crowded into the courtroom without emotion despite the flashes of cameras and the murmurs he can almost make out as uncomfortable words. But he offers a little smile to the jury, inclining his head in their direction. Those humans he must not merely impress, but convince to take his side. The side of all hybrids. The side of truth.

He lets his claws emerge as he raises his right hand in the air to be sworn in. Many of the humans had sworn on a book, but their barn-baby religion means nothing to Minseok. So he looks steadily into the judge’s eyes to impart the seriousness of his oath.

“ Do you solemnly swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, under pains and penalties of perjury for both yourself and your sponsor, Kim Jongdae?”

“I do,” Minseok states.

“Very good. Prosecution may begin questioning.”

It’s Junmyeon, not Jongdae, who steps toward him with a polite smile to ask him questions Minseok’s already answered several times before about his treatment at the hands of the collectors. 

“Despite the state’s classification of hybrids as livestock, this is the United States District Court for the state of North Dakota, and the recent US Congressional session has granted all hybrids within its borders the right of testimony, among other things. So in your own words, please inform the court of your treatment at the hands of the proprietors and employees of Dollhouse Decocats, LLC—speak slowly and clearly so the court transcribers and translators may relate your words accurately.”

Minseok does. His voice is clear and unwavering, just like his love for his mate, his kit, his brother, and his human family. He can’t wait to go to Korea, study to be a teacher, help young hybrids, see his youngest kit. But he’s happy he can speak for himself in the country he was born in, inform the humans again that yes, he’s an animal, but so are they. And therefore it’s only fair that he should have been treated like a person, someone who thinks, has their own goals, would like to make his own decisions about creating life with someone else.

There is only one question the collectors’ lawyer asks through the interpreter that pushes Minseok to growling point.

“But isn’t it true that the lawyer Kim Jongdae is your lover? Of course you would say whatever he tells you to.”

Claws digging into the wooden edge of the witness box, Minseok stands up, swallowing the snarl in his throat. “You think I am lying? That because a human is my mate, I am willing to betray myself, my family, my young? If she proved to be fertile, they would have forced my youngest kit to carry my seed, to give birth to her own sibling. They wrote this plan down, shared it with all the staff like it was an acceptable thing to do! I do not need to invent stories when the truth is already disgusting. Do you really think anyone who asked me to lie about this would be a person I’d agree to live with? To raise my oldest kit with?”

“Some may argue that you fought so hard for custody so that you could abuse your ‘kit’ yourself, possibly alongside this lawyer you’ve ‘mated’ with.”

“Objection!” Junmyeon calls, following it up with a string of emphatic English that gives Minseok time to calm down. 

“Only one final question then—why should we give any weight to the so-called ‘testimony’ of an animal?”

“Because humans are animals, too. I am as much a person as anyone else.”

“By what standard do you make this claim?”

“By the standard that I’m making it. Your doctors have asked me questions for hours—they say I am not trained or merely repeating words I do not understand. I know my own mind, and I say I am a person. By what standard do you claim that I am not?” 

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

Jongdae absolutely knows Minseok is a person of strength, intelligence, ferocity, and tenacity, and most importantly, a grown-ass man. But sometimes Minseok is also too fucking adorable, a precious little kitten, and especially when he lets go of his dignity and plays around with his mate, his family, or his friends, Jongdae has the hardest time not cooing at him and pinching his smile-bunched cheeks.

At the moment, he’s distracting his daughters, moving his backpack subtly across the low-pile airport carpet, making the nylon straps trail behind it enticingly any time Amber’s or Sohee’s faces (and probably their scents) slip from excited to pensive. Minseok had been uneasy about the plane ride right up until his kits expressed their own apprehension, whereupon Minseok immediately became Mr. Everything-will-be-all-right.

It’s ridiculously endearing. And it’s also ridiculously endearing how Amber is holding on to her younger half-sister but also to  _ Jongdae’s _ hand, careful of her claws but squeezing like blood circulation isn’t all that important. Minseok smiles so fondly at all three of them that it’s a little hard for Jongdae to breathe, much less remember he’s supposed to be helping Baekhyun escort all the K-hybrids as they travel to be repatriated.

Some of them are lucky enough to be reunited with their original sponsors, after being separated for up to two decades. Some will be introduced to the descendants of their parent’s original sponsors, crossing oceans to forge a new relationship and a new future. And some are striking out into the unknown, betting their happiness and well-being on the laws of this country over the one they were born in.

And none of them have ever been on a plane before. Or even seen one up close. The scent of nerves must be almost choking.

Baekyun’s got a group of them singing lullabies they’d learned from their mothers alternating with pop songs they’d learned from Baek’s extensive streaming music playlists. Another group of them is slowly murdering squeezable cartoon stress balls that really weren’t designed to stand up to hybrid claws. Some are chatting, and some are lovingly antagonizing their own children to keep their minds off the coming flight.

Sohee’s mother, a tiny, dynamic snow leopard hybrid called Soonkyu, had seen Minseok’s interview with Amber and his televised court appearance and decided that there was no reason to wait until their return to Korea to let her oldest daughter get to know her father. Her three other children, Somi, Sobin, and Sohoon, have also gotten rather attached to Minseok, since initially he would visit Sohee and her family all together in one of the playrooms at the women’s shelter. The visits were supervised by one of the women’s social workers to mediate any potential difficulties, but she usually ended up just playing along in whatever game the kids coaxed Minseok to play with them. 

Jongdae had gone along whenever his work allowed, and if he were unable to do so, Baekhyun or Yixing would act as Minseok’s stand-in sponsor. Which was rather convenient, in Baekhyun’s case, because Minseok was still dead set on having Baek be Soonkyu’s (and by extension, Sohee’s) sponsor in Korea. The fact that she’d met him and he’d happily let her children dress him in play jewelry and a flower crown was probably a big part of why she’d agreed to start video-chatting with Taeyeon and eventually to agreeing to sponsorship with the couple.

At the moment, Soonkyu seems quite content to let Minseok entertain his daughter while she manages her other three kits with Baekhyun’s polite assistance. He always makes it clear that he’s there to help, not take over (unless that’s what she really needs at the moment). Being no dummy, what Soonkyu seems to need the most help with is diaper changes when Baekhyun’s around—they were of course an entirely foreign concept to all the mothers at first, and since diapering is one of the things the social worker is literally trained in, Soonkyu is more than happy to defer to his professional skills whenever they’re available.

But at the moment, Baek’s bouncing Sobin on his hip while he sings with his impromptu karaoke group, one hand resting on Somi’s head where the child has her arms wrapped around his leg. Soonkyu is nursing Sohoon nearby, and Minseok is sure that on the other end of the bluetooth earpiece she’s wearing is Taeyeon, providing whatever support she can over the phone.

It’s really very satisfying to watch families grow and intertwine.

Jongin and Kyungsoo are here, too, Sehun having decided that he’d prefer to hold Korean nationality like Kyungsoo. He must go to Seoul instead of L.A. to repatriate and get all the paperwork in order, but Kyungsoo’s next acting project is a drama that will be filmed in Korea, giving them plenty of time to get all of that figured out. Then Sehun can start training for acting and modeling—he’s excited about getting to borrow a character’s words as he continues to learn more and more of his own. 

They plan to have all three of them signed under the same entertainment company, so they’ll hopefully be able to overlap Sehun’s projects with one or the other of theirs, so while all three of them may not get to be together very often, the white liger should always have at least one of his humans with him while he learns the industry. It sounds rather exhausting to Jongdae, but Sehun seems happy. And Jongdae admits that most people would find his own career unappealing, so to each their own.

Jongdae’s own mate is ridiculously appealing, though. And he keeps throwing little teasing winks at Jongdae over his daughters’ heads until Amber yells at them for “smelling gross and dumb.” 

Amber yells at them for smelling gross and dumb a lot. But she always says it with a smile behind the scoff, and Minseok says her scent is only fond and not actually disturbed as long as they keep their teasing and flirting light and loving instead of lusty.

“She wants to be a good mate, too, Dae,” Minseok had explained. “When she grows up. We are a better example than dramas. We talk about what bothers us. And we do not give each other dumb gifts.”

Jongdae can’t wait to get back to his own home, to have his guest bedroom become a teenager’s haven, to have Minseok celebrate his ability to alphabetize by rearranging Jongdae’s bookshelves. To have someone else’s clothes in his hamper and listen to complaints about homework. To complain himself when the pair of half-sisters giggles together all night when Sohee stays over, and when his streaming entertainment service starts suggesting kids’ shows and teen dramas instead of documentaries.

He already has plans to loft the bed in Amber’s room, letting the former street kid (and permanent cat) feel more secure by being able to look down on her surroundings. He’d nixed the plan to paint her room black “because some of us can’t see in the dark and I want to be able to navigate your room without dying,” but is otherwise content to let her pick the wall color and decor. He wants it to be her space, safe and comfortable.

He’s fine with whatever Minseok wants to do to their apartment, too—he’d never been home often enough before to bother making the place stylish rather than simply liveable. But he has every reason to be home as often as possible, now. He’s made arrangements to start securely taking his work home after hours rather than falling asleep on the uncomfortable office sofa, and he’s even taken some family leave for a while after they get back to make sure the new additions to his life are adjusting well.

The things that weigh heaviest on his heart about the Dollhouse case are that he wasn’t able to find out what happened to Minseok’s mother or any of the other “retired” hybrids, not definitively. And he was only able to put those bastards away for ten years—that’s the maximum penalty the USDA allows for mistreatment of “non-human primates.” But thanks to the new Companion Animal Protection Act, hybrids in the US now have an official classification and an initial set of laws that, while not perfect, are a hell of a lot better than being treated as livestock.

And they had at least managed to track down most of the hybrids Dollhouse had sold off, and in a surprising amount of cases, they’d been convinced the hybrids were in good, safe homes. Apparently the ‘screening’ that Dollhouse had supposedly subjected their buyers to had actually paid off, Gaines being one of the few scumbags that had slipped through.

Most delightfully, they’d found Minseok’s son. The eight-year-old white lion had been purchased by a Canadian couple, and the pair of women seem to dote on the boy they’ve named Mark. When they’d realized, shortly after bringing him home, that their “baby lion” was speaking another language instead of just babbling, they’d enrolled him in an integrated international day school. He’d quickly made fast friends with a Korean-speaking human boy a few years younger than himself, and the pair has proven to be quite musically gifted.

Mark’s sponsors were more than happy to share their private insta with Jongdae so Minseok could spend hours watching his kit play and sing with his best friend Donghyuck. Father and son video chat regularly, often including Amber, who has taken to her big-sister role with relish. Minseok would of course like to meet his son in person someday, to have all three of his kids in the same room together, but for now Minseok says he’s happy to get to see him on the tablet and to know his son is so well loved.

Jongdae is happy to see that Minseok is so well loved. Not just by his family and the other hybrids, not just by every human he talks to one on one, but by the human public in general. He’s become something of a celebrity, much to Minseok’s embarrassment. 

He’s proud of the things he’d said in his interview and in the courtroom, but hadn’t meant to draw so much attention to himself. Even walking through the airport earlier had resulted in Jongdae having to ask a few people not to photograph the children’s faces. Starting new lives in a new country will be enough of a challenge without having to do it in the public eye.

The hybrids all stiffen in unison when it’s time to board the plane, but there’s surprisingly few difficulties getting everyone seated. There’s a comical amount of anxious hissing from most of the children and more than a few of the adults, including Minseok himself although he is very, very quiet about it. Sohee’s seated with her mother a few rows back, and Jongdae ushers Amber into the window seat and Minseok into the middle seat before taking the aisle seat for himself.

As he’d predicted, both Amber and Minseok are glued to the window as the plane takes off, and they join the others in an eerie collective growl as the plane passes over the sprawling Dollhouse compound, rows of cages now empty, hopefully forever.

“I had a dream like this once,” Minseok murmurs, one arm around Amber’s shoulders, the fingers of his other hand twined between Jongdae’s.

“Oh?” Jongdae squeezes Minseok’s hand. “Was it a nice dream?”

Minseok turns away from the window to give Jongdae a soft little smile. “It is now.”

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ


	11. Chapter 11

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

Seoul is amazing. It’s even better than L.A., because here all the signs are written in Korean. Shops, streets, everything is labeled clearly, making Minseok feel confident that even if he doesn’t yet know what most of the place names are, he will soon learn.

Like L.A., there are also hybrids walking the streets, some with humans, some in groups of two or three, some all by themselves. Minseok loves ‘people watching’ as Baekhyun terms it, loves seeing hybrids like him—many looking not at all like him—happily living their lives, no cages in sight. The weather is warming up, so while Amber talks with the lady therapist Baekhyun recommended, Minseok and Jongdae stroll around outside in the spring sunshine.

It’s even warmer now than it had been in L.A., so it’s even easier to see who’s human and who’s a hybrid, especially as non-scaly hybrids need less warm clothing than humans. While Minseok is intrigued to see all the different kinds of hybrids and the different styles of collars many of the hybrids are wearing, what he’s more curious about are the scars he often sees on partially-bared shoulders.

They look a lot like bite marks, and he’s more likely to see them on hybrids who are holding hands with another hybrid. They each just have the one, and usually on the same shoulder, like they all lined up in a row to be bitten one after the other. Except they weren’t all bitten by the same set of teeth—some are larger or smaller, neater or more messy, and the more he sees, the more concerned Minseok becomes.

“Dae, do hybrids fight a lot in Seoul?”

“What? No. I mean, there are probably some fights but it’s not anything you need to be too worried about. It’s a pretty safe city, for both hybrids and humans.”

“Then why do so many hybrids have scars?”

“Scars?”

“On their shoulders.”

Suddenly Dae smells very flustered. “Uh. Well. Those… are mating scars.”

“Because they did not wear bite guards and got carried away?”

“Not… exactly.”

“Dae. Stop smelling squirmy and tell me what you know.”

Dae laughs. “Man, you would be an absolutely terrifying lawyer.”

“You are the terrifying lawyer. I will be the noble teacher. And the annoyed mate, if you do not tell me properly.”

“Okay, okay,” Dae huffs through a half-chuckle. “Um. Many hybrids, when they find someone they want to be mates with for a long time, they, um. Bite them.”

“On purpose?”

“Sort of. Instinctively, they want to bite, you know, during sex. But if their mate agrees, then they bite deeply enough to leave a permanent scar. On purpose. To, uh. Show their bond.”

“Oh. Interesting.” 

Minseok had thought that the hybrids in dramas had sometimes worn patches to indicate they’d left bruises on each other, because they were just acting rather than really being mates and having sex. But evidently the patches had represented something else, something more important, which makes the other characters’ strong reaction to the appearance of the patches make much more sense. Like when the humans in dramas gave each other gold rings. Or when Minseok and Dae wear their matching earrings.

Dae blinks at Minseok for a moment. “That… is not how I expected that conversation to go.”

Minseok laughs. “Why not?”

“I… don’t know.” Dae rubs the back of his neck. “I guess I just thought you’d have a stronger reaction to the idea.”

Minseok narrows his eyes at his mate. “Because  _ you _ have a strong reaction to the idea?” 

Dae opens and shuts his mouth sheepishly, but his scent flares bright.

“Dae,” Minseok grins, stepping more into his mate’s space, crowding him against a tree-shaded wall so he can murmur in his ear. “My Dae, do you want your mate to bite you? Is that it? Are hybrids allowed to scar humans, if they agree to be mates?”

He nips at Dae’s neck, making him squeak. “Do you want me to pin down my pretty little prey and bite you, mark you with more than a bruise, make you mine forever?”

“...I don’t want you to do anything you’re not absolutely sure of.” 

“I’m sure of you,” Minseok purrs. “I would want you forever with or without my fangmarks on your shoulder. So you decide, my mate. Do you want me to scar you?”

“...Yes.”

Minseok steps back, hands in his pockets so he can keep the fabric of his slacks away from his half-aroused dick. “Okay. But you have to get me a gold ring.”

“...A what?”

Turning back toward the building where his kit will be waiting, Minseok smiles over his shoulder, keeping one ear trained on his mate. “If I mark you as mine the hybrid way, I want you to claim me, too. The way humans do.”

“Oh! Of course I’ll claim you.” Dae pushes himself away from the wall and hurries to catch up. “I’d be honored if you wore my ring.”

They pause at a traffic light—the one at the _top_ is for _stop_ , that’s how Minseok remembers it—and Dae whines down at the front of his pants. 

“Damn cats, always toying with your prey.”

“My prey likes being toyed with,” Minseok dismisses.

“He does,” Dae agrees. “But he doesn’t like being sneered at by a teenager for smelling all hormonal.”

“Then let’s smell like coffee instead,” Minseok suggests, nodding at a shop on the opposite corner. 

He loves how coffee smells even though caffeine isn’t good for hybrids. He just gets decaf Americanos, the name reminding him of the huge country he was born in. He doesn’t want to live there, but he does miss it a little, the people like Leo, Wendy and her mother, even Barbara who let him speak for himself and his daughter on TV. And he’ll always miss waking up in a pile with his mother and siblings, even if now he wakes up in a pile with his mate and sometimes, in a blanket fort in the living room when Sohee stays over, his daughters.

“My mate is a genius,” Dae states as they head toward the coffee shop. “We’ll get a decaf latte for Amber, too, so she really won’t be able to smell anything suspicious.”

But of course when they hand Amber the cardboard cup, she narrows golden eyes at the pair of them suspiciously. “You did gross adult things while I was in there, didn’t you?”

After two months of lessons, Amber’s Korean is still very basic, so  _ gross adult things _ comes out in English. Minseok’s heard similar phrases more than a few times, and suspects that his daughter will continue to use them even when she’s fluent in her father’s language.

He can’t smell Dae’s fluster but it’s pretty evident from his face. “No! We were just walking, and, uh, we talked… about. Things.”

Amber snorts. “Great job, Jongdad. Very cool.”

Dae sputters some more. “Jongdad?”

Slurping happily on her latte, Amber shrugs. “My Korean teacher says call you ‘new dad,’ but you’re both new dads to me.” She frowns. “Should I add ‘nim?’ Is it not respectful enough?”

Minseok can’t help but laugh. His mother had taught him to add politeness when speaking to people older than himself, but that was it. He also struggles with the many levels of formality the Korean language has when conversing with people outside his immediate family. 

“Just call one of us ‘dad’ in English,” he suggests. 

“She doesn’t have to call me ‘dad’ at all,” Dae protests. 

“What else am I supposed to call you?” Amber raises a brow. “Hey you? Uncle? Mister? Man my dad fucks?” This last word is in English again, profanity evidently not something that beginner lessons cover. 

“You definitely have to add ‘nim’ to that last one,” Minseok advises. “It’s important to be respectful when someone works hard to take care of you.”

“Sorry,” Amber says. “Thanks for the coffee, Man-my-dad-fucks-nim.”

“Cats are terrible,” Dae declares as Minseok laughs. “Cruel and full of mischief.”

“But also very cute,” Minseok reminds him. “You love us.”

“Argh, I do,” Dae mourns. “Much to my detriment, I am sure.”

“It’s pronounced ‘delight,’” Minseok corrects.

Dae smiles. “Of course it is.”

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

Jongdae knows his mate well enough to be vaguely uneasy when he makes arrangements for Amber to spend a weekend with Baekhyun, Taeyeon, and Sohee’s family. When Minseok then proceeds to book them a two-night stay in a private cabin in a remote part of Bukhansan, Jongdae is bordering on alarmed. And now that he’s driving along twisty roads through the woods, his mate grinning out the window with his ears up and tail quivering, Jongdae is fucking terrified.

And more than a little aroused.

“Should I even bother going in the cabin?” Jongdae asks when they’ve pulled up in front of the rustic wooden structure. “Or should I just get out of this car and start running?”

“Cabin first,” Minseok sings. “We must make our den all nice and tidy and cozy before I hunt down my prey. We won’t want to do it afterward.”

“Fair enough,” Jongdae laughs. 

Minseok is bouncing around like a kitten on catnip, singing snippets of various pop songs as they sweep out the cabin, make sure the generator works so they can refrigerate their food, and lay out their bedding. He looks at Jongdae with eyes curved over bunched cheeks as he sings SNSD’s Run Devil Run.

“You’ll be the devil,” Jongdae laughs, but sings a few cheeky bars of SNSD’s Catch Me If You Can. 

Minseok slowly licks his lips, finishing the move with a wink. Then he digs in their luggage and hands Jongdae an old ratty set of sweats he didn’t even know he still owned.

“Is this your idea of lingerie?” Jongdae laughs.

“That is my idea of clothes I can rip off of you without upsetting you.” 

Heat rushes through Jongdae’s core. He doesn’t bother to say anything, since Minseok’s nostrils flare and then his smirk widens. He strips down, too, shameless as always, grinning when Jongdae eyes him up as he pulls on a pair of basketball shorts.

“Why bother to wear anything?” Jongdae asks.

“Because running through underbrush with no protection isn’t fun.”

“Fair.”

When Jongdae’s dressed in the old sweats and a sturdy pair of shoes, Minseok looks at him rather bashfully. It’s ridiculous, because he’s standing there all gorgeous, muscles and spotted skin, handsome face and silver hair, tufted ears and plush tail, and looking like he’s a little afraid that Jongdae will reject him.

“Are you really sure, Dae? You want me to hunt you? Bite you? Leave my scar on your shoulder?”

“Absolutely,” Jongdae says immediately. “I mean, I’m sure the bite is gonna hurt like hell, but I’ll be fine. You’ll have your guards in for everything but that, and I know you’ll take good care of me after.”

“I will,” Minseok nods. He’s got all the first aid supplies laid out tidily on a low table in the order he’ll need them. “And you have the ring?”

Jongdae holds up his left hand, where the ring meant for Minseok’s ring finger is currently on Jongdae’s index finger.

“And we have our words,” Minseok reminds him. “Please, Dae. I don’t want to really hurt you. You have to use the words.”

“I will,” Jongdae says. “And if I can’t talk, I’ll tap you three times.”

“Okay.” 

Minseok hooks an arm around Jongdae’s waist and pulls him in for a kiss. It’s tentative, cautious, until Jongdae hums and chases Minseok’s tongue with his own. Then Minseok rumbles low and hot and hungry, licking into Jongdae’s mouth with that raspy tongue that’s just a little too long, probes a little too deep to be human even if it were smooth like Jongdae’s own.

“Mine,” Minseok growls. “My tasty, tempting mate.”

Jongdae grins against those plush lips. “Give me the count of one hundred.”

“Be careful,” Minseok says, tail undulating. “No bleeding without me.”

“I’ll do my best,” Jongdae says, then bolts from the cabin when Minseok starts counting.

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ

Minseok counts. Slowly. His human needs the advantage, and Minseok wants to draw this out. They’d talked about this, at length, because while Minseok loves biting his Dae and making him writhe and moan, he’s really not sure he wants to bite him and make him scream.

But Baekhyun, after apologizing for the hole in his explanations of mating to Minseok, had showed him the mating scar his little canine mate had given him. “I thought with all the biting, you’d have done it instinctively,” he’d said with a wince. “I thought that’s why you wanted the guards, so as not to do it again.”

But Minseok is civilized. Sure, he loves putting his mouth and teeth all over his mate, but he doesn’t want to actually hurt him. He loves Dae, and even though Dae wants this, asked for this, he wants to do it as painlessly as possible for him. So he’d listened well to Taeyeon when she told him where to bite, that it would hurt more if he hesitated, had to make more than one attempt to properly break the skin. That it would hurt less if he bit Dae right at the moment of his orgasm, that the pleasure flooding his system would override a lot of the pain.

Minseok knows his mate, knows all the signs he’s about to climax. He’s confident that he can time it right, place his teeth correctly, bite quick and hard enough the first time. Taeyeon had said his instincts would guide him, and as soon as Minseok reaches the count of one hundred, his instincts are telling him to  _ hunt. _

He drops into a low crouch as soon as he exits the cabin, bare feet silent once they hit the forest floor. Unlike his domesticated human, Minseok’s feet are used to being unprotected outside, and his claws, though capped, still give him extra traction over the ground.

Sniffing the air slightly, Minseok smiles as he sets off after his mate. He’s moving at an easy lope, sure his precious prey can’t escape him. Within minutes, he can hear him, trying to move quickly and quietly within the deep shade of the forest. A few minutes after that and Minseok can see him, or at least the signs of him, waving plants as he works his way through the dense underbrush.

His prey is adorably terrible at escaping. So it’s a good thing that he doesn’t actually want to.

Still, part of the fun is the pursuit, so Minseok deliberately snaps several twigs underfoot. There’s a muffled yelp and Dae squirms and scurries faster, making Minseok fight back a snicker. He creeps around to one side, rustling the brush as he passes through. Dae veers away from the sound, breath coming fast enough for Minseok to faintly hear.

Circling around behind his prey, Minseok again lets his movement produce sound. He’s much closer than he’d been before and Dae bolts, panic sending him fleeing across a clearing, evidently choosing speed over stealth.

He doesn’t reach the other side. When he’s tackled, Dae screams.

Minseok has heard a lot of screaming. He’s done quite a bit of screaming, himself. But the sound Dae makes isn’t broken or despairing, not full of agony or frustration, not even really full of true fear. It’s more a scream of exhilaration, excitement, panicky anticipation. It’s high and breathy and enticing rather than something sick or sad. Minseok hadn’t fully realized how apprehensive he was about the sound until he hears it, and his answering growl is equal parts hunger and relief.

“Mine,” Minseok declares when they’ve rolled to a stop. He inhales deeply as Dae pants rapidly beneath him, but his mate smells of edgy excitement rather than pain, a little hint of true panic fading away to be replaced with the spice of anticipation as Minseok bends to mouth at Dae’s throat.

“So fucking hot,” Dae breathes.

“You’re supposed to be struggling to get away,” Minseok reminds him, digging capped claws into his ribs.

“Ahh, nooo, don’t eat me,” Dae obliges, squirming delightfully beneath him. 

Minseok growls possessively but lets Dae roll onto his belly and writhe out from beneath him, letting him get almost to the treeline before catching an ankle and hauling him back. Dae thrashes wildly, but Minseok wrestles him onto his back, grabs the stretched-out neckline of the ragged shirt, and rips.

Dae screams again as the fabric separates, and with another two yanks the front of the shirt is hanging open, leaving Dae’s heaving chest exposed. Minseok fastens his mouth to Dae’s chest even as Dae pushes at his shoulders, groaning and twisting in his efforts to dislodge his predator. When he’s sure he’s left a nice big bruise over Dae’s heart, Minseok lets him go, listening to his hammering heartbeat fade as he rolls up to his knees and scrambles away.

Minseok takes a moment to adjust his arousal in his pants before he goes after him. And then he laughs, because his ridiculous prey is attempting to climb a tree. He’s halfway up the trunk of an oak, arms wrapped around the lowest branch, torn shirt flapping as he tries to find a foothold.

Taking advantage of the convenient situation, Minseok reaches up and tugs Dae’s pants down over his cute little ass. Dae yelps and tries again to pull himself up, but not only does his foot slip, but Minseok sinks his dulled teeth into Dae’s rounded cheek.

The yell this produces is delightful. The fact that he ends up with an armful of struggling prey is a bonus as Dae drops down from the tree. 

“You’re a beast,” Dae accuses as he squirms free, leaving his shredded shirt in Minseok’s hands as the price of his (temporary) freedom. He hikes his pants back up and runs, but not before Minseok gets a good look at Dae’s hard cock.

Smiling, Minseok stalks after his prey, carrying Dae’s shirt over his shoulder.

Dae buys himself an extra minute by crashing through a tiny stream, briefly disrupting his scent trail. But Minseok just crosses the stream and pauses, ears swiveling to track his prey by sound. A moment later, a twig snaps to his right, so that’s the direction Minseok goes.

The shriek Dae makes when Minseok tackles him again is really gratifying. It has Minseok growling to cover up a laugh as he buries his face against Dae’s skin right where his neck meets his shoulder.

“Gonna bite you,” he reminds Dae, smiling more when his pulse spikes. “Gonna mark you as  _ mine.” _

When Dae squirms from beneath him again, Minseok keeps his pants as payment. He looks more than a little ridiculous, pelting through the woods nude except for his trainers, cupping his hands in front of his groin to protect it from thin, springy branches and scratchy twigs as he runs. 

Minseok takes a moment to rip the pants down the center of each leg, making a wider piece of fabric to eventually spread his feast out on. He chooses a patch of springy ground beneath a pine tree, branches spreading wide and angled down to make a low open space against the trunk. He removes all the rocks and pinecones from his chosen spot, then spreads out the shredded clothes over the bed of pine needles. He sheds his own shorts this time, tugging the packet of lube free before folding the fabric to make a cushion for his prey’s head. 

The third time he catches Dae, his yell is one of fond frustration.

“Always toying with your prey,” he accuses. “Letting me think I’m getting away when you’re right fucking there.”

“Yes,” Minseok agrees. “I am a mean, bitey predator. That is what we do.”

“You’re terrible. I’m running away.”

“You are not,” Minseok says, gathering his wriggling prey into his arms. “Gonna fuck you now, little prey.”

Dae whines and squirms as Minseok hauls him back to his prepared den. Minseok smiles at Dae’s grunt of surprise as he’s deposited onto the soft, clean surface.

“Look at how civilized this predator is,” he laughs. “A pillow and everything.”

“I am fierce and wild,” Minseok growls, but he’s smiling as he sucks a bloom against Jongdae’s throat, occasionally opening his mouth wide to hold Dae’s windpipe firmly between his teeth.

Dae gurgles every time, even though Minseok’s not applying enough pressure to interfere with his breathing in any way. And every time his cock kicks against Minseok’s, libido spiking at the reminder that Minseok could hurt him, but never actually will.

Well, except for the giant bite mark he’s about to put in Dae’s shoulder. But Dae asked him for that. And Minseok’s beginning to look forward to it.

He spits out the tooth guards and tucks them safely into the still-intact pocket of Dae’s ripped-open pants. Then he crouches beside his prey, holding him down with a knee on his chest as he tears open the lube packet and slicks his fingers. Dae kicks at him, but Minseok catches an ankle and hauls it up toward Dae’s chest, opening up his prey so he can slip a lubed finger inside him.

“Help!” Dae yells. “Someone save me from this mean bitey predator!”

“You’re all mine,” Minseok says, tightening his grip on the elevated ankle, letting his capped claws pinch a little. 

And when Dae tries to kick out of Minseok’s hold, Minseok slips a second finger in beside the first, curving them so that Dae’s thrashing brings them in firm contact with that sensitive spot inside.

Dae yells. Minseok grins and crooks his fingers more, stroking the spot again and then a third time as Dae shouts.

“Wiggly little prey,” Minseok growls. “Gonna have to spear you in place to be devoured.”

“Noooo,” Dae moans, but he angles his hips to ease Minseok’s entry.

Minseok spreads the rest of the lube over his cock and buries it in Dae’s tight heat, groaning deep and gravelly as he bottoms out. While Minseok is basically the same height as Dae, Minseok has long legs while Dae’s height is in his spine. It means he has a long torso with a lovely little waist for Minseok to wrap his hands around, capped claws denting soft skin as he holds him down and fucks him fast and hard.

Unfortunately, this difference in proportion means that when Minseok’s inside Dae, Dae has to curve a little awkwardly to meet Minseok’s mouth with his own. While Minseok is usually quite happy to bite and suck at Dae’s lovely chest instead, it’s not exactly the best position from which to precisely and tidily bite Dae’s shoulder.

But Minseok is an adaptable predator, so he has a plan. The first step is to stun his prey with vigorous thrusts against that sensitive spot, over and over until Dae’s yelps are more like a continuous wail. Then, just before his climax, Minseok pulls out to spill his seed over Dae’s cock as his prey looks down in a daze. 

Minseok usually prefers to pump his seed deep inside his mate, to hide it well where no one else will ever get it. So he expects the furrowed brow and look of confusion when he shoots his seed over Dae’s dick instead, confusion he takes advantage of by looming over his prey to scoop up the mess and begin to stroke Dae off with the slickness he’d produced.

Dae manages one astonished blink at the mess and what Minseok does with it. Then he throws his head back, arching his spine up as Minseok tugs firmly at his cock with a slick hand. Minseok growls possessively, squeezes his fingers a little tighter, and waits for Dae’s breath to catch and his abs to tense. When it happens, Minseok licks his lips and opens his mouth wide, eyes on his chosen marking spot.

Then Dae groans, spine snapping back to curl up as he climaxes. His shoulders spring off the ground, and the right one ends up perfectly between Minseok’s teeth as he closes them, fast and hard. Dae’s groan becomes a scream, but the scent filling Minseok’s nose is only that of pleasure as Dae’s cock pulses in his hand again and again and again. 

“Holy  _ fuck,” _ Dae gasps.

Minseok opens his mouth, releasing Dae’s shoulder. Dae flops back against the sliced-open shirt, panting wide-eyed up at Minseok, who’s wiping his bloody mouth with the back of his hand. Dae’s blood tastes heavy and metallic, too bitter to actually be tasty. Minseok swallows it down anyway, folding forward to lick the wound gently, raspy tongue cleaning blood from skin. 

“Holy fuck,” Dae pants again. “Fuck. Min, love you. I’ve never come so fucking hard.”

“‘M glad it didn’t hurt,” Minseok rumbles, moving to groom Dae’s hair instead of his shoulder. “Love you so much.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’ll ache for days, but I’m okay with that. Min. This was the absolute hottest thing ever.”

“Mmm,” Minseok agrees, still dragging his tongue over Dae’s scalp. “Liked chasing you. Catching you.” He pulls back to smile down at his Dae, looking back up at him with love shining from his eyes and twining in his scent, lying pliant beneath the predator that just sank fangs into his flesh. “My precious little prey.”

Dae flops both hands onto his stomach, pulling the ring off his hand and holding it up with quivering fingers. Minseok slides his ring finger through, smiling when Dae tangles their fingers together and tugs Minseok’s hand to his lips.

“My fearsome, civilized predator.” He presses a long kiss beside the gold band, then makes duck lips up at Minseok until he leans down to give him a slightly-bloody kiss. Dae doesn’t seem to mind, sliding his tongue through Minseok’s mouth like he often does after Minseok swallows his seed, chasing the taste of himself on Minseok’s tongue.

Then he flops back against the shredded clothing with a sigh. “How bad would it be if we just slept out here? I don’t think my legs work. I don’t wanna trudge all the way back to the cabin.”

“The cabin is just on the other side of this tree.”

Dae blinks. “What? No.” He twists his head, squinting through the branches surrounding them. Then he gasps. “Really? But—I ran so far.”

This last bit melts into a whine that tugs Minseok’s grin down to press against Dae’s pout. “You did run really far,” Minseok confirms. “I was very impressed. But you ran in a big circle.”

“Well. That was lucky.”

“Not lucky. You always fall asleep right after. I didn’t want to carry you all the way back.”

Dae’s gasp is entirely offended. “You  _ herded _ me?”

“Herding is for livestock,” Minseok dismisses. “You are my beloved prey.”

“That you deliberately toyed with in such a way that I’d end up where we started.”

“Yes.”

The scowl on Dae’s face melts into a smile. “Thanks, Min. You’re the sweetest predator ever.”

Minseok rolls his eyes, then prods at Dae’s hip when he yawns. “Come on. Sleep inside.”

“Don’ wanna move,” Dae mumbles.

“Dae. You will roll over and sprawl out like you always do, and the clothes are not that wide. You will lay in the pine needles with a sticky belly. When you wake up, they will be glued to your dick.”

“Good thing the cabin’s so close and convenient for me to just stumble over to,” Dae decides, making a show of heaving himself up and crawling out from beneath the pine. He’s still wearing his shoes, so he’s quite quick about scurrying into the cabin to clean himself up. 

Minseok gathers the clothes, his bite guards, and the empty lube packet and follows, feeling the strange weight of the gold ring around his finger. He’s hyper aware of the bright metal all evening, as he pulls on a new pair of shorts and a sleeveless shirt, as he disinfects and bandages the mirrored curves his teeth had made in Dae’s shoulder.

“You’re so tidy,” Dae laughs, examining Minseok’s work with the selfie camera of his phone. “I love that you’re wild enough to hunt me down and bite me, but civilized enough to do it so neatly and make sure we end up right back at the cabin.”

“That’s why I bit you,” Minseok says from behind Dae, inhaling his thickly-fond scent with a self-conscious smile. “Why I wear your ring. You have never made me feel like I have to choose. I am both. I am proud of being both. And from the beginning, you have understood.”

He rests the hand with the ring over the shoulder with the bandage, smiling when Jongdae angles the camera to capture them both. “The collectors looked at me and said ‘you are an animal.’ Then the shelter gave me a shower and underwear and shoes and said ‘you are a person.’ Then this tiny little human in a fancy suit walked alone into a room with an angry hybrid he had never met and said ‘I’m Kim Jongdae. What’s your name?’”

“I was so surprised when you answered me,” Dae says, reaching up to hold the hand on his shoulder. “You hadn’t said a word to anyone.”

He presses a kiss into Dae’s hair, following it up with a swipe of his tongue. “But you  _ asked  _ me who I was instead of telling me. And you listened when I answered. You saw me as Minseok, and you let me show you who Minseok is.”

“Minseok is amazing.” Dae’s smile is so bright as he angles the phone for more photos.

“So is Kim Jongdae. And now he is all mine.”

“Pretty sure I was all yours from the moment you told me you were going to live in my cage,” Dae huffs, thumb rubbing against Minseok’s ring. “But now you’re all mine, too.  _ Kim _ Minseok. My Min.”

“My Dae.” Minseok smiles down at his love, who snaps a few more pictures.

“Right, now stop being ridiculously photogenic and come around here so I can kiss you. I can’t twist my neck to reach you back there—some wild animal mauled me in the woods.”

“You asked to be mauled,” Minseok reminds him, but he moves around to kiss Dae’s pouting lips. 

“Well, now I’m asking for cuddles.” Dae flops onto the bedding, making grabby hands at Minseok.

“From a wild animal?” Minseok assumes his usual position half-draped over his mate, tail swishing contentedly over Dae’s thighs.

“Yes,” Dae says, catching his tail and stroking it.  _ “Two _ wild animals. That happen to be endearing aspects of an entirely delightful person.”

VⱽⱽⱽⱽV  
ɅʌʌʌʌɅ


End file.
